The Code of the West
by King in Yellow
Summary: You've seen the start often, maybe too often. Kim is injured on a mission. You'll likely think you know where I'm going with this. You're wrong. Shego may suffer from feelings of guilt and will enter a confusing legal limbo, but her goal is still to enjoy herself. I haven't seen this ending before in any KP story, and don't think you have either. Enjoy the ride. Not Best Enemies.
1. Break a Leg

Boilerplate Disclaimer: The various characters from the Kim Possible series are all owned by Disney. All registered trade names property of their respective owners. Cheap shots at celebrities constitute fair usage.

 **Break a Leg**

Shego failed to block Kim's kick, and the green woman was flung back against the wall. Her head thudded against the bricks and she dropped to the floor, stunned.

"Ron! What's happening?" the redhead called.

"Get out! Rufus and I loosened the bolts! The centrifuge is tearing itself apart!"

"You safe?"

"Yeah! Go!" Even as Ron shouted the assurance of his safety Kim heard the scream of metal against metal as joints on the massive structure began failing.

"NOOO!" Drakken's anguished scream rang through the cavernous lair.

Kim assumed Drakken was safe, the blue man usually kept himself from harm's way. The cheerleader started turning as she saw a heavy metal support leg of the centrifuge falling. The pylon should miss her, but Kim glanced at her adversary. "Shego! Move!"

The green woman had struggled to her hands and knees and was slowly shaking her head, trying to regain her full senses.

"SHEGO! MOVE!" Kim screamed.

The thief clearly couldn't move fast enough to save herself. Kim sprinted toward the fallen woman, threw herself at Shego as the metal leg collapsed, she managed to push the thief out of the way as the pylon crashed down. Other scaffolding, centrifuge parts, and a variety of debris rained down around them.

The crash shocked Shego back to consciousness. She had no memory of the collision of her head against the wall, but retained a vague sense of Kim screaming for her to move, being unable to respond, and feeling shoved. Still shaking her head to clear the fuzzy feeling she looked around.

Kim's face was white, her teeth clenched to keep from screaming with pain.

The shock of seeing her adversary in pain restored Shego to full consciousness. She examined Kim's position and the material pinning her down. "Your leg might be broken," she warned.

"I'm sure it is," Kim gasped.

"Let me see if I can move this without hurting you worse."

Shego was still assessing the situation when Drakken entered to see if any of his work could be salvaged. "What happened?" he demanded."

"Princess here got trapped, her leg may be broken."

"Ha!" Drakken chortled. "We have her now! There is no way she can escape this time! We'll put her–"

"Shut up!"

"What?" the blue man asked, unable to believe Shego would speak to him like that at their moment of triumph.

"I said shut the fuck up. We are not doing anything to Princess here."

"But she's–"

"Nothing. Zip. Nada."

"You're always fighting her! And losing! This is–"

"When I beat her she goes into a death trap. This was an accident. It doesn't count."

"That's nonsense!"

"It's the Code of the West. Now help me get her out."

"No."

"No?" Shego growled.

"No," Drakken insisted, showing an unexpected backbone. "She's ruined my plans too–"

He was interrupted by Ron running in, frantically calling, "KP! Kim!" He skidded to a halt when he saw Kim trapped and went into a fighting stance.

"Stop him, Shego," Drakken ordered.

"No."

"No?"

"He's going to help me get Princess here to a hospital."

Ron looked confused, glancing back and forth between the villains, not sure what was happening.

"If you don't fight him. You're fired!" Drakken told Shego.

The thief shrugged, "Can't fire me. I quit. Oh, and I'm taking the hovercraft. Your last paycheck bounced." She snapped her fingers, "I'll get a job like that."

"You help Kim Possible and you'll never work for a villain again!"

Shego turned to Ron. "Throw things at him. Preferably heavy with sharp edges. Don't let him take the hovercraft."

Ron hesitated, unsure if he could believe Shego. Drakken turned and ran, retreating toward the hovercraft.

"STOP HIM!" Shego screamed, and Ron took off in pursuit.

Drakken tried dodging, but Ron wasn't distracted. He made straight for the hovercraft, and, reaching it first, stood between it and Drakken. He had time to pick up a couple hefty chunks of debris, and when the first one thudded into Drakken's chest the blue man decided to escape on foot.

Ron stood by the air car for a minute, wondering if Drakken might come back, then ran back to see what was happening with Kim and Shego. "Can I help?"

"I... I don't see a good way to lift this off. I could burn a couple girders, but the heat will hurt her more."

"Can... you... lift... with... hovercraft..." Kim gasped.

"Kiss her, she's a genius," Shego told Ron and sprinted for the hovercraft.

Kim fainted as her leg was freed and Ron and Shego gently loaded her into the hovercraft.

"Home or nearest hospital?" Shego demanded of Ron.

"I don't–"

Kim had revived slightly, "Home," she whispered before slipping back into unconsciousness.

"Middleton it is," Shego muttered. "Call Wade. Alert the hospital."

A morose Ron sat by Shego in the co-pilot's chair. "This is my fault," he muttered.

"Not your fault," Shego told him.

"Yes it is! I took out the bolts. I didn't see if she was safe."

"It was an accident! It wasn't your fault."

"Yes it was if I–"

"Ron, I'm going to give you a word of advice I gave Drakken ten minutes ago. Shut the fuck up. It wasn't your fault. It was an accident. Right now I want to get Pumpkin to the hospital and I sure as hell don't want to listen to you whine. Capisce?"

Kim revived a little later, "Near Middleton?"

"Hold her hand and tell her just a minute," Shego ordered Ron.

He got on his knees and took her hand, "Almost at Upperton. Three minutes the way we're going. I called the hospital."

An emergency crew was in the parking lot, waiting for Kim to arrive by ambulance, when the hovercraft sat down.

Kim's mom supervised the orderlies as they laid Kim on a gurney and wheeled her to the emergency room. She stared at Shego, wondering what was going on – why Kim's enemy was there.

"She saved Kim's life," Ron explained. "Will Kim be all right?"

"I haven't seen the X-rays... I'm a brain surgeon... I... I need to go in and find out what's happening."

"Can I wait?"

"Of course, Ron."

"I'll wait with you," Shego told him.

"You don't have to, I–"

"I told you, I'm waiting with you," she barked. "Good advice still holds."

Ron swallowed, hard. "Yeah, I need company. Thanks."

Shego needed company too, although she was unlikely to admit it.

Ron and Shego drank a couple cups of the wretched coffee available in the waiting area as they stared at the clock. After about forty minutes Anne Possible came out.

"What's happening?" Ron demanded.

"Displaced fracture."

"What does that mean?" Shego asked, "Good or bad?"

"Fairly bad. It could be worse. She's in surgery now."

"She... She won't lose the leg will she?" asked Shego.

"Shouldn't. You did a good job of getting her here."

"How long to recover," Ron wanted to know.

"Recovery times vary. If the healing goes well, as little as four months. Kim is young and healthy. I'm hoping there won't be complications. And, of course, there will be a need for physical therapy even if she heals quickly - muscles atrophy while in the cast."

"C-can we... " Shego stammered, "Can I wait to hear how the surgery goes?"

"You may. No one has called the police if that was your question."

"Yeah. Yeah, guess it was."

"I'll wait with you," Ron offered.

The two sat beside each other on a waiting room couch. Ron slumped over and began mumbling, "My fault," again.

Shego put an arm over his shoulders and gave him a one-armed hug. "Ron, I told you to stop that shit. It was an accident. It wasn't your fault."

"Yes it was."

"No it wasn't. Stop it."

"I can't."

"Yes you... I'll give you a choice. You stop it, now. Or, you go find a decent coffee shop and bring us back something worth drinking. That way I don't have to listen to you for at least a few minutes."

"Any other option?"

"Hmmm... I suppose I could kill you. But at the moment I'm not especially in the mood."

"Not sure I'd mind right now."

"Well, I would. And Kim would try and fight me – and that sure as hell wouldn't do her any good. So do the right thing – either get us a couple good cups of coffee or shut up."

Ron was back about half an hour later. He handed Shego one of the styrofoam cups he was holding and joined her on the couch. "Any news?"

"Not yet." She removed the plastic top and took a sip. "Thanks, needed that."

They focused on coffee for a few minutes, and then Ron ventured a question, "Why did you save Kim?"

"I didn't save her."

"Yes, you did. Drakken wanted to kill her. You stopped him. You could have just left. But you–"

"Look," Shego interrupted, "I'm willing to take off her head in a fair fight. Hell, I've tried. You don't kick someone while they're down. It's the Code of the West."

"Oh... Well, thanks."

"Don't mention it. Seriously."

Anne Possible came out before they finished their coffee. "She's coming out of the anesthesia. Would you like to see her?"

"Yes," Ron answered enthusiastically.

"Will she be okay?" Shego wanted to know.

"She should be, but it will take some time," Dr. Possible assured her. "Follow me."

Kim was still groggy, but managed to greet the pair with, "Want to be the first two to sign my cast?"

"No signing until the plaster is dry," a nurse told her. The nurse turned to Dr. Possible, "Dr. Stevens would like to keep her overnight. She should be fine now." The nurse left.

Kim looked at Shego, "Thanks for saving me."

"I didn't save you... Look, I got to go."

"Where? Drakken fired you."

"He didn't fire me. I quit. You heard me tell him that."

"Yeah, where you going?"

"I don't know... Somewhere... If I told you, you'd probably get out of the hospital bed and try and take me in."

"Not for awhile," Kim said sadly, looking down at the cast and making Shego feel even more uncomfortable.

"Do you want to spend the night at our house," Anne asked. "It's the least we can do for you saving Kim."

Shego decided Kim hadn't told her mother what really happened – that it was Shego's fault Kim had been hurt. The redhead's leg had been broken when she saved Shego's life. "Look... I... Thanks for the offer, but I don't feel like I saved Kim, I'll–"

"Of course you did," Anne assured her.

"I'd drop it," Ron advised Anne. "She's kind of weird on that. Some Code of the West thing – not kicking someone while they're down. Or maybe she's worried you'll call the police or something."

"I will not call the police," Anne said firmly. "And I don't care what you call it, young woman, but you will stay with us until you have a real place to go."

"Better accept the invitation," Kim warned. "Don't make my Mom angry... She's tougher than I am."

Shego hesitated, then shrugged, "Okay... Thanks." _"They'll throw me out when they find out this was my fault."_


	2. The Show Must Go On

Boilerplate Disclaimer: The various characters from the Kim Possible series are all owned by Disney. Any and all registered trade names property of their respective owners. Cheap shots at celebrities constitute fair usage.

 **The Show Must Go On [Shego's POV]**

I think I have a pretty good work ethic. Yeah, everyone thinks that, even the laziest son of a bitch in the world. But I do. Give me a real job and I do it, and do it damn good. The problem with Drakken's hare-brained schemes is that they were never going to work and it was pointless to steal something only to have him fail with it.

But I always played happy camper as best I could. Key phrase is 'as best I could'. I have a good work ethic, just a low tolerance of ineptitude.

So, I was up early the next morning making a few calls to find myself a new job… I briefly considered calling Drakken to see if he'd calmed down. Okay, Drakken is fairly useless, but that makes him a great boss. While he's cooking up one of his born to fail schemes he allows me to sit around under a heat lamp. He doesn't get too bent out of shape over sarcasm – probably because he knows it's deserved. And he doesn't think that my work duties include over-time in his bed. All in all working for Drakken was a pretty cushy gig. But I was not about to let him know that.

Gave Dementor a call. There is something to be said for German efficiency. Job would be harder, but I'm not afraid of hard work.

Got a "No, I do not take Drakken's cast-offs."

"I didn't get fired! I quit! I was tired of his shitty ideas!"

"Perhaps, Fraulein, or perhaps you are attempting to infiltrate my organization and steal my ideas."

That actually wasn't a bad idea. A shame Drakken never thought of it.

WEE is just fucking crazy, Gemini is psycho. I did _not_ give them a call.

Senior, Senior doesn't like me. Jealous of Junior's attachment. Junior's like a big puppy dog – eager to please and almost as bright.

Apparently Drakken had been posting on villain media sites, and had been lying – claimed he fired me. I'll fire his ass with plasma next time I see him. Monkey Fist thought helping Kim was wrong. Guys like Frugal Lucre and Duff Killigan were either loners, too cheap to afford my services, or both.

Finally gave Jack Hench a call. The man is total slimeball, but he is also the top man for job placement in the evil field. I didn't call him early 'cause he always takes his pound of flesh as a 'service fee' for finding you a job.

Had to threaten three underlings with bodily dismemberment before I was connected to Hench personally.

"What do you mean, 'no'?" I growled.

"No. N. O. Surely the word is within your vocabulary," he answered smugly.

"I know what it means. I'm the best at what I do, the best. How can you say you're not interested?"

"Hench Co is a legitimate business—"

"Like hell it is."

"We provide temporary workers to employers… It is not our fault if the employers ask them to engage in illegal activities. We have a technology division, a science division, an industrial supply division, real estate… I'm an honest business man. It's not my fault if things I sell are used for death rays, evil lairs, or vats of boiling acid."

"Damn it, Hench, I'm just asking you to find me a job!"

"And have you name appear in my data base employees? Sorry, Sweetie, you're too hot for me – wanted in eleven countries. If the IRS audits my books – and you can bet your pretty ass they do – you'll stick out like a sore thumb."

"You worthless piece of—"

"Have a nice day," he told me cheerily, and hung up on me. He hung up on me! I wasn't sure if Drakken or Hench needed to be on the top of my 'Bastards to seriously hurt' list.

Anne Possible came home for lunch.

"Did you find a job?"

"No," I admitted, and pushed half the tuna salad sandwich to one side of the plate. I wasn't feeling hungry.

"Then you can help me bring Kim home from the hospital this afternoon."

"I… I don't think I should be—"

"You're worried about being identified. I bought something," she tossed me a bag, "wear this. They won't look too closely if you're with me."

It was a red wig.

"I'll say you're a relative," she told me. "You should wear something of mine. That black and green outfit is too identifiable. A couple orderlies are bringing over a hospital bed a little later. We'll have Kim in the TV room for a few days until she's more accustomed to the cast and can go up the stairs to her room. She won't go to school for the rest of the week."

I figured Princess would be out of shock, and out from the anesthesia, and would likely try and punch me in the nose. Under the circumstances I might let her, but I decided I owed Anne for letting me spend the night.

"When do we leave," I sighed.

"Twenty minutes work for you?"

I nodded.

Kim was loaded on a wheelchair when we got to the hospital. She seemed surprised to see me.

"Your cousin, Desdemona, came by for a visit," Anne said loudly enough for the nurses and an orderly to hear.

Kim seemed a bit confused, but played along.

I pushed the wheelchair out to the car… If I'd broken her leg in a fair fight it would have been one thing. You take your chances in a fight. She'd gotten her leg broken saving my life, and that is something entirely different.

"Shego is having trouble finding a new job," Anne said as she drove the three of us back to the Possible home. "She did save your life, should we ask her to stay until she finds a new position?"

I didn't save Kim's life. It was my fault she was in the cast. And when she told her mom that I'd be out on my ear on the street – possibly with my own broken appendage.

"No one wanted to hire you?" Kim asked in disbelief, "but you're good!"

"Yeah," I answered without enthusiasm. "That and six ninety-five will get me a small cup of coffee at StealBucks."

"Who did you try."

I gave her and Anne the list, and the excuses... Except I didn't mention those who wouldn't hire me for taking Kim to the hospital.

"Did you consider a partner?" Kim asked.

"Nah, a guy thinks your body is part of the shared partnership."

"Female partners? DNAmy?"

"Amy isn't evil, she's just ethically challenged."

"Camille Leon?"

"Useless party girl."

"Electronique?"

"Who's that?" Anne asked.

"Team Go villain," I told her. "She'd be good. But she wants to kill me and my brothers and that would put a strain on a potential partnership. And Bella Negra and I have too much the same skill set. For a good partnership you need to complement each other in terms of strengths and weaknesses."

"Who is Bella Negra?" Kim asked.

"Another Team Go villain. You never met her. And I hear she retired."

"So, what are your options," Anne asked.

"Not sure. The two obvious ones are a solo career or start my own gang. Solo... I don't know... I need to talk to someone, even Drakken, sometimes. Solo? You can't trust anyone, always afraid of bounty hunters... Seems like every competent solo villain I know is paranoid – don't know if they start out that way or the lifestyle encourages it. A gang? What a headache! Administration is not one of my strong suits. The start-up costs for salaries, uniforms, health plan, lairs... Hell, if I had enough money to start a gang I could just retire instead. Good henchmen demand premium salaries – and bad henchmen are a total waste of time and money."

"Well, I offered you the use of our guest room until you knew what you were doing. You did save Kim's life."

I figured this was the perfect time for Princess to say what really happen, and the car would stop and I'd be out on my ear. But the cheerleader said nothing. "I didn't save her life," I told Anne. "I'm not taking any credit. I don't deserve any."

"Nonsense. It's too late to be job searching this afternoon. We're having brainloaf for supper."

Brain surgeon. Brainloaf. That was one scary mental image. I hoped it wouldn't be mine.

Okay, meatloaf made in a pan that baked it into the shape of a human brain. Pretty funny actually. I watched a little television with Kim and her parents in the living room before turning in.

Woke up to the sound of some kind of commotion downstairs. I figure someone had IDed me and the cops were there for the arrest. I dressed fast. Not hearing any footsteps on the stairs I cautiously opened the door a crack. Ron's voice was there, and a lot of Kim's. I didn't get a clear picture, but there was something about kids, a car, a cliff, and a winch. It sounded safe to go down, and I was curious as hell about what was happening.

Kim was frantically giving Ron instructions about rappelling down a cliff. I tried to ask a question, and she waved me off, "No time, Ron needs to get out there."

Anne was present, and I whispered, "Out where? What's going on?"

"Car lost control. Part-way down a cliff. Unstable. Three kids and the driver. There was a call for Kim to rappel down the cliff and get a hook attached to a cable on the frame to secure things. Ron is going to handle it."

I've seen Doofus lose his pants way too often to feel good about his chances, and from what Kim was telling him I got the idea she had the same fears. But I had bonus fears. Kim could have pulled off this rescue in her sleep, but she wasn't able to do squat because of the broken leg. So, if the people in the car got hurt – or killed – it was my fault.

"I'll do it," I interrupted.

"I can–" Stoppable started to object.

"Maybe," I agreed. "But I can do it better."

"Hobble might be there, he'd want to arrest you before you could try a rescue."

"I can't believe–" Anne protested.

"I've escaped him four times. But I'm the best bet the kids got." And if I was arrested afterward I could bust out of jail and be gone.

"I have a mission outfit your size," Anne told me, "from Mother's Day. Wear the wig. Maybe you can get in and out without being recognized."

"I'll do the talking," Stoppable promised. "We got to move fast."

I adjusted the wig in the car. Stoppable started to mumble, "This is my fault, I–"

"What did I tell you the other day? Shut up or I'll slug you."

"Not while I'm driving... Easy for you to say, you saved Kim's–"

"And you'll shut up about that too. Not your fault she broke her leg, and I sure as hell didn't save her life. Drop it, and tell me anything you know about what's happening."

"They got a winch with a heavy cable, and a big hook, as near the edge as stable, Wade supervised by satellite images... Got a rappelling line too. Car looks like it could get loose – and there's a whole lot more cliff to go down. Need a light person to rappel down to the car – hopefully not setting off a landslide that'd knock the car loose. Get the hook on something solid and then get the kids and driver out."

"Piece of cake," I muttered. This was why I quit the hero biz – who needs the stress of other's people's lives depending on you? You screw up, someone's dead. Crime is a lot less pressure. Screw up and you either don't get what you came to steal or you have to bust out of jail. So not the end of the world if you have an off day.

Hobble was at the outer perimeter. "Look out the window, let me talk," Stoppable ordered. He didn't do much talking, kind of shouted "All set?" as he slowed slightly.

"Yeah, glad you–"

Anything else Hobble said got lost as Stoppable sped fast.

Couple guys in work clothes, not police uniforms, at the winch.

"Hurry!" one called as we parked. "Car's shifted a little. We ordered everyone back until..." He stared at me.

"Hey, you're not Kim," the other commented as Stoppable and I hustled our butts over to them. Well, duh, I knew damn well I wasn't Kim.

"Kim's emergency backup," Stoppable told him, grabbing the cable and hook and going to stare over the edge.

"But I thought you–" the second man called to Stoppable.

"Shut up," I advised and grabbed the harness and rappelling line before joining Stoppable at the edge. It wasn't as far down as I feared. That was good, kids were probably just shaken up and not broken up. But the terrain was gawd-awful. Brush kept them from a clear shot of just throwing the cable over for those in the car, and the whole thing looked worse than I'd pictured it in my mind.

The two men took my advice and came over to add their opinion on the safest route down to the car. They weren't idiots. They knew I needed both hands to rappel, and one tied a piece of string around my waist and tied the hook to it, my hands were free and a moderate tug would give me the hook. "I'll feed you slack," the other promised. Too much cable would get in my way, not enough slack and it would slow me down as I had to fight it. I breathed a little sigh of relief that I wasn't dealing with morons.

"I'll watch here at the top," Stoppable promised.

"We've got someone coming down to help," one of the men shouted down. He stayed by Ron, probably to give directions to his partner on feeding out the cable.

I don't believe in prayer, but I said one anyway as I started down. I didn't think it would help, but was sure it wouldn't hurt.

I ignored the man at the top calling information on how fast I was going as best I could, didn't need the distraction.

Started fine. Got a little trickier as I tried to work around the scrubby cedars and get close. "Feed me more cable," I shouted. With luck I'd be in a position to toss the hook to the driver through an open window. Got the length I needed. Just a couple feet and everything would be fine.

And as soon as that idea went through my mind a chunk of rock came loose under my foot, crashed through the brush and thudded against the side of the car.

Children screamed in terror as the car shifted.

 _"Shit!"_

Don't know if it was just a little movement, or if the car was breaking loose. Didn't have time to analyze. Grabbed the hook with my left hand and jerked it free. Let go of the rappelling line and went into free fall.

Fell nine feet. If I hit the car I might send it over myself.

Grabbed rappelling line with my right hand. Agony in my shoulder, but swung hook into the car and secured it. Car was safe. My shoulder hurt like hell.

Sounds of relief from the car. And I got jerked away as Stoppable started pulling the line attached to my harness.

"That had to hurt," he commented as he helped me scramble to safety.

"No shit," I told him as I tried to extract myself from the harness with my left hand.

"Great job," the workman who'd been at the edge told me was he helped unfasten the harness.

"Back in the car," Stoppable ordered as the man at the winch waved to other emergency crews that it was safe to approach. Ron leaned on the horn to get through the police, EMTs, and news crews and headed back to Kim's place.

"You know, Stoppable, you're okay," I commented as I massaged my sore shoulder.

"Call me Ron."

"Maybe. I'll try to stop calling you Doofus."

"Kim probably has some liniment that'll be good for your shoulder. I got to get to school."

"You don't get a day off for a rescue?"

"Nope. Besides, I'm supposed to get Kim's homework for her. She's excused from class, but still has to do her work."

He might not get a day off for the rescue, but it didn't stop him from hitting the drive-thru at Bueno Nacho on his way to Kim's.

I blame his fixation for bad faux-Mexican food for the delay. "Duck down!" he ordered.

"Why?"

He didn't give an answer, just put a hand on my shoulder and pushed me down. Under normal circumstances that is a request for serious bodily injury, but I decided to give him the benefit of the doubt.

"Why?" I repeated.

"News crews outside of Kim's."

I stayed down and he got us into the garage using Kim's remote control.

"Ron? Shego?" Kim called as we came in the house from the garage."

"Yeah," Ron called as the doorbell started ringing. "That'd be the news guys who were outside."

"Shego, go up to the guest room – close the door. Ron, tell them... Oh, let them in. I'll get rid of them."

I went up to the guest room, but I didn't close the door – curious what Pumpkin would tell the 'gentlemen' of the press.

Some babbling as Ron let them in. They'd heard a report that Kim broke her leg. Was she frightened during the rescue? Why hadn't she waited at the scene for the vultures to interview her? Of course they didn't use the phrase vultures. They seemed to think 'freedom of the press' means the right to be in your face obnoxious. They'd obviously failed fifth grade civics.

More shocked babbling when Ron escorted them to Kim, laid up with a broken leg. Demands to know what happened. Who had done the rescue, yada, yada, yada.

"A friend of mine did the rescue this–"

"What's her name?"

"She is a modest woman and doesn't want her name given."

"Where is she?"

"Ron drove her where she needed to go before returning my car to me."

"Ron, where did you drive the mystery woman?"

"Uh, what Kim said. I'm not saying nothing."

"Not saying anything, Ron," Pumpkin corrected him.

"But–" someone objected.

"And I got to get to school. I'm already late. Kim's excused 'cause of her leg but I'm supposed to get her homework."

"But–"

"Ron will escort you out. I have nothing else to say."

More babble of protests, with some comments by Stoppable telling the jerks to move. He didn't say jerks, but he should have. He was a lot more polite than any of them deserved.

Apparently Ron went with them, because the place went silent except for faint television sounds starting a couple minutes later.

"Shego?"

"Yeah?"

"They're gone. Thin Man marathon on Turner Classic. Want to watch?"

"I got nothing better to do," I called and headed down.

She watched me carefully as I came into the living room. "I'm not planning to punch you," I told her.

"You're moving weird. Get hurt?"

"A little. Nothing serious."

"Need a doctor to look at it."

"Nah, be fine tomorrow. Ron said you got liniment."

"Should be some in the downstairs medicine cabinet."

I headed for the bathroom and found it, then returned to the living room. "You're quite the liar," I told her as I settled into an easy chair.

"What do you mean?"

"Telling those idiots I was a friend, and modest. There isn't a modest bone in my body."

"You want me to call the newspaper and say, 'Hey, a world famous criminal is hiding out at our place while she's out of work'.?"

"Nah."

"See, I was–"

"That would make me sound desperate for work, some schmuck would try and hire me on the cheap. I'll make a few more calls this afternoon... Say I've got a couple high paying offers, but I'd rather work for the guy I'm calling. Flatters the ego and tells them they have to pay a decent salary to get me."


	3. The Code of the West

Boilerplate Disclaimer: The various characters from the Kim Possible series are all owned by Disney. Any and all registered trade names property of their respective owners. Cheap shots at celebrities constitute fair usage.

The complete Code of the West (The Ballad of Waterhole #3) is scattered through the film Waterhole #3. An abbreviated version by Roger Miller (who performed the movie soundtrack) may be found in YouTube. To fill space: the full version of The Ballad of Cat Ballou is heard in Cat Ballou, and Nat King Cole also released it in abbreviated form.

 **The Code of the West**

 _ **The code of the west ain't some words on a page  
You just naturally know it when you come of age  
You eat when you're hungry, you drink when you're dry  
You look every man in the eye**_

Shego's efforts to find work that afternoon were no more productive than her calls the day before and she was in a foul mood at supper than evening.

"Maybe you could fill in for Kim, until her leg heals," Tim suggested.

"That is not practical," Anne told her son. "She's wanted and will need to find a safer place to stay."

"But who'd look for her here?" Tim argued.

Kim spoke up, "And we couldn't afford to pay her properly."

"Then maybe you'll let Tim and me fill in for Kim," Jim suggested. "If we get to skip school to do it."

"You do not get to skip school," their father told them firmly. "And pass the lima beans."

Ron stopped by after supper with Kim's homework and the gossip from school.

"The guys from the TV station figured it was one of the cheerleaders with the rescue this morning, so they were hanging around the high school 'til Mr. Barkin ordered them to leave."

"Good for him," Anne commented.

"No, the good part is that, for some reason Bonnie was late this morning, and she refused to say she wasn't the one who did the rescue – so everyone thinks she saved the kids this morning."

Kim shook her head, "That is so Bonnie."

"Who's this Bonnie?" Shego demanded.

"A nuisance," Kim grumbled.

"And she'll probably be the head cheerleader, now that you're not cheering," Ron told.

"I can still–"

"No," Anne told her daughter firmly. "You will not do anything that might interfere with the healing process."

Shego didn't even attempt to find a job over the weekend. "Villains take off on Saturday and Sunday, at least the ones with any money and sense."

On Sunday Kim practiced getting around with crutches to prepare for her return to class.

During lunch on Monday Tara and the other cheerleaders, with the exception of Bonnie, joined Kim at the table where she sat with Ron and Monique.

"Did Bonnie really do that rescue last week?" Jessica demanded.

Kim gritted her teeth inwardly, "I said I wouldn't say anything about the woman who did the rescue."

"We want to help too," Tara told her.

"Yes," Crystal added. "If Bonnie can help the rest of us can help."

"But nothing dangerous," Hope said nervously, "Is there stuff to do that isn't dangerous?"

"Yeah," Marcella seconded.

"A lot of stuff Kim does to help people isn't dangerous," Ron assured them.

"I think it's great," Kim told them. "You really want to help other people?"

"Well, you've done so much to help others," Tara assured her. "We want to help you."

"I mean, how much can Ron do when he keeps losing his pants?" Liz giggled, and the rest of the squad joined in her laughter.

"Let me call Wade and you can tell him how to get in touch with you and what kinds of things you'd be willing to do. Like Ron said, a lot of stuff isn't dangerous."

"Maybe we could all get those communication thingies!" Jessica hoped.

News of the other cheerleaders offer made it all the more necessary for Bonnie to appear friendly with Kim in their afternoon literature class. Bonnie counted on Kim's claim she would not reveal the name of the person who accomplished the rescue a few days earlier. Bonnie greeted Kim warmly, expressed exaggerated sympathy for Kim's leg, and asked in a conspiratorial whisper, "You still haven't told anyone who rescued the kids, have you?"

"No, Bonnie," Kim sighed.

"Well call me if you need more help," Bonnie assured her. "And I want a communicator too… One in teal to go with my eyes."

Kim didn't pay attention in the lit class the way she normally did. Mr. Williams assumed it was connected with the broken leg and allowed her a day of being distracted. Kim's actual thoughts were more on the lines of, "What kind of mission can I send Bonnie on where she'll fail miserably and publicly?" Some of the missions Kim dreamed of assigning to Bonnie also had a large chance of serious bodily injury, and tempting as the idea might be, in Kim's head, she would not risk actually harming another Middleton cheerleader.

* * *

Shego helped Anne in the kitchen. "I feel like I'm overstaying my welcome… Maybe welcome is too strong. My invitation… My being tolerated."

"What do you mean?"

"I figured I'd have a job offer and be out of here after a night. It's been around a week now."

"Nonsense. You saved Kim's life. You're welcome to stay indefinitely."

"Can you drop the saving Kim's life part? It really makes me uncomfortable."

"But you did."

"No I didn't! Look, Kim would have never gotten hurt in the first place if she wasn't trying to stop one of Drakken's crackpot schemes. She was fighting me! If she hadn't… Never mind. The point is; it was my fault."

"Didn't I hear you telling Ronald to, I believe your words were, 'put a sock in it' one time over the weekend when he said something about it being his fault? You told him it was an accident."

"Yeah. Why should he feel guilty? It was my fault."

"I'm going to tell you something a wise young woman once said, put a sock in it, Shego. Kim was hurt in an accident. It wasn't your fault."

"Yes it—"

"If you won't stick a sock in it, I will. Do you prefer cotton, wool, or synthetic?"

"Fine, I'll shut up. But you can't stop me feeling guilty!"

"That's your choice. And…"

Shego waited a few seconds. "And what?"

"It's… Never mind."

"If you're trying to drive me crazy you're doing a hell of a good job."

"I feel safer with you here."

"Safer? With me here?"

"You've always been Kim's most dangerous enemy. If you're here you're not plotting against her."

"Can you be sure of that?"

"You wouldn't have brought her home if you were."

Shego opened her mouth to protest the logic, then closed it.

Anne continued, "If you get a job, in crime, Kim may try to stop you. She's in no condition to do that, but I'm worried she would try anyway. I've worried about her being seriously injured for years. Maybe the leg will be the wakeup call for her to be more careful. But I really feel like Kim is safer as long as you stay with us."

" _Crazy,"_ Shego thought and went back to dicing avocados for the salad.

The cheerleaders did amazingly well on the small scale missions they were assigned. Tara, who hoped to study veterinary medicine in college, turned out to have a wonderful affinity to animals. She had told Wade to call her in cases involving animals and Wade had crossed his fingers and called her when the call came in for the porcupine in a crawl space. A large and unhappy porcupine in a crawl space under a day care center.

Tara's dad drove her out for the mission. "Stop!" she ordered as they passed a supermarket.

Like all good fathers, Tara's dad listened to his daughter and waited as she dashed in to buy some parsnips.

Dressed in jeans and a stained, old sweatshirt Tara wiggled into the crawl space and coaxed out the porcupine far enough for animal control to slip a noose around the creature and extract it.

"You won't hurt him, will you?" Tara demanded as she carefully fed him another parsnip.

"Nah, take him out into the woods twenty, thirty miles and turn him loose."

The article in the Middleton examiner, talked about Kim almost as much as it talked about Tara. But the quote from Kim contained the information that the other cheerleaders had volunteered to step in to help – although none of them would be asked to perform dangerous missions.

Many of the incoming messages to Kim's websites were guys asking for dates with a cheerleader. Wade began work on a program to filter out jerks. Actually he just needed to tweak an application he had already developed. Kim's motto of 'Anything's possible for a Possible' had always brought in a large number of undesirable and frequently obscene requests.

By the end of the week Wade had designed very basic communication devices for all the cheerleaders. They had only a small fraction of the capabilities of Kim's Kimmunicator, but they would be enough for basic communication and limited data gathering for Wade to analyze.

Bonnie had planned to suggest she be named head cheerleader at a practice session that week, but she decided sympathy for Kim was still running high with the other girls – who were also excited at the prospect of being local heroes – and she decided to hold off the formal vote for another week or two.

Sunday afternoon Kim and Ron were doing homework (or perhaps more accurately Kim was doing homework and Ron was copying her answers) when a call came in from Wade.

"Got an animal call… Too big for Tara."

"What is it?"

"Sassy's up a tree again."

Ron and Kim were working on the kitchen table. Shego, putting away dishes as they worked, asked, "Sassy?"

"Big cat," Kim explained.

"Really big," Ron clarified. "Sassy is a cougar… I'll take it."

"The owner says Sassy is a puma, and she hates boys, remember?"

"Any cheerleader you want to send up after Sassy" Ron wanted to know.

"Bonnie," Kim sighed, "but you're right. I shouldn't send up Bonnie."

"What I want to know," Shego demanded, "is why they let someone keep a mountain lion in—"

"Cougar," corrected Ron.

"Same damn thing," Shego retorted.

Wade's explanation came over the Kimmunicator, "Her nephew is the mayor."

"Okay, that explains it," Shego grunted. "Pumpkin here has gotten the overgrown pussy cat down before?"

"Yes," Kim answered.

"If she can do it, I can do it."

"But Shego," Kim protested, "you might be IDed."

"We'll do it like that cliff rescue. I'll dress up in an outfit like yours, put on the red wig, Ron can drive me up and I'll be in and out so fast there'll be no problem."

"But Sassy is—"

"If you can do it, I can do it."

"Take my Kimmunicator. Wade, she can use my Kimmunicator, can't she? You'll help her?"

"Okay," Wade agreed. "Hey. I have an idea. Maybe I can help if there's a problem."

Shego slipped the device on her wrist. "And how does a voice over this thing help me?" the green woman demanded.

"Don't sell Wade short," Ron commented. "He can do anything."

"Don't confuse me with Kim," Wade reminded Ron.

"Just drive, Stoppable," Shego ordered.

* * *

There were a couple police cars near the tree when Ron and Shego arrived.

"Hobble again," warned Ron.

"Well just drive past him."

Hobble jumped out into the middle of the street and waved his arms to stop Ron. Ron honked the horn and drove around him. Hobble shouted curses as Ron drove up to the tree.

"God damn! It really is a mountain lion," Shego said as she stared up.

"Cougar," Ron corrected her.

"And Kim got it down before?"

"Yep."

Shego opened the car door, sprinted the twenty feet to the tree and swung herself up on a low branch. From the top of the tree Sassy growled a warning. "I'm tougher than you," Shego warned.

It wasn't at all clear to Ron whether Sassy or Shego was tougher as they both hit the ground twenty minutes later. The puma looked like it had taken more damage, but it also looked like it was more ready to continue the fight as it snarled and got ready to pounce.

"Sassy! Bad girl," an old woman scolded as she came forward and grabbed the collar around the beast's neck. "Home! Now."

"And Kim has gotten that thing down before?" groaned Shego.

"Yeah… And looked like you do now when she did it," Ron told her, offering a hand to help the green woman to her feet.

There was a shout of "Hold it right there!" as officer Hobble ran toward the pair, his gun drawn and pointed at Shego.

"Gotta run," Shego whispered.

"Wouldn't it just be easier to bust out of jail?" responded Ron.

"Yeah, maybe. Less chance of you getting shot if he goes trigger happy."

Wade's voice came over the Kimmunicator. "Don't try anything. I've got an idea. If this works you… Well, if it doesn't work you can break out of jail."


	4. To Your Own Self Be True

Boilerplate Disclaimer: The various characters from the Kim Possible series are all owned by Disney. Any and all registered trade names property of their respective owners. Cheap shots at celebrities constitute fair usage.

I felt reviews were slow last chapter, but in the great scheme of things not much happened last chapter. However, special thanks to the reviewers: GabrielBlade, Invader Johnny, Lhyaran, Obsessive Imaginings, Noncynic, and NLSC. More happens in this chapter, so some of you lazy reviewers need to write something.

 **To Your Own Self Be True  
**

 _ **It's the code of the west  
You must honor your neighbor  
The code of the west  
To your own self be true**_

[Shego's POV]

I couldn't believe Wade's advice as Hobble rushed at me with his gun drawn. Stand there and let Hobble take me in without putting up a fight? Hey, I've been arrested before, but I've sure as hell never gone peacefully. Nerdlinger is as much of a do-gooder as Pumpkin – probably just didn't want me to hurt Hobble. Well, busting out of the Middleton jail isn't that tough. I should know.

Hobble arrived and ordered, "Put your hands in the air!"

"Do it," Wade advised. "He'll probably want to put the handcuffs on you before he checks out the question I'm going to ask."

"What are you talking about," Hobble said to the Kimmunicator on Shego's wrist.

"I'm going to ask you why you're arresting this woman."

"Why I'm arresting her…" he began, then stopped. "Turn around and put your hands behind your back," he ordered Shego.

"Do what he says," Wade repeated.

"You sure?" I whispered.

"Well, I hope so. I'll—"

"You, be quiet!" Hobble barked.

I still wasn't sure if I trust Nerdlinger, but the kid was a genius and I felt confident I could break out of jail… Hell, I might break out of the cuffs before I got to the jail, knock out the cop (hopefully Hobble) and take the police car when I escaped Middleton. Although something within me resented the hell out of the gesture I turned and meekly crossed my wrists as Hobble slapped the steel bracelets on me.

"You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say or do can—"

"Uh, Officer Hobble?" Wade's voice interrupted from the Kimmunicator.

"Shut up, kid. If I lose my place I have to start all over."

"You don't want to be guilty of a false arrest, do you? It looks real bad if you bring in someone who isn't wanted for a crime."

"This is Shego! She's wanted for… Hell, I've got no idea how many crimes she's charged with."

"Hey, innocent until proven guilty in a court of law," I protested.

"Sure, but your green ass will be sitting in a jail cell until then… Where was I?"

"You were going to call the police station and ask if there are any outstanding warrants out on Shego," Wade told him.

"No I wasn't. I'd started Miranda. Let me—"

"Call the station," Wade advised.

I had no idea what Nerdlinger was trying to do. I was wanted in eleven countries, which included Federal charges here in the States. After the Feds there were maybe ten states in the U.S. with warrants out on me.

Hobble addressed the Kimmunicator, "Will you shut up and let me finish the arrest before I call the station?"

"How about you call the station first, and if they tell you to arrest her I'll be quiet. It'll save you a world of trouble to call first."

The cop grumbled, "Fine, but this is just stupid." He ordered me to, "Stand there! Don't move!" as he pulled out his radio and called in.

Stoppable had stayed by me. "Trust Wade," he whispered.

That was easy for him to say. He wasn't the one in handcuffs.

Hobble ordered Ron, "Don't talk with the prisoner."

Hobble's conversation with the station went on a lot longer than either he or I expected. I only heard his half, but I heard a lot of disbelief in his words and tone. What I was hearing were things like, "Check again!" and "S-H-E-G-O. It's spelled exactly the way it sounds," and "What the hell is wrong with you! She's committed all kinds of crimes."

I was starting to enjoy his confusion, "Allegedly committed all kinds of crimes," I reminded him cheerfully.

"Shut up!" he growled. "No, not you," he apologized quickly into his radio, "I—" He held out his radio and stared at it in disbelief, "He cut me off! The son-of-a-bitch cut me off!"

"Well, you were abusing the poor man dreadfully," I told him in a cheery voice. While I had no idea in the world what Kim's resident genius had done I was pretty sure he deserved the credit.

"Shut up!" Hobble warned.

Ron seemed to pick up on what was happening too, "So, are you arresting Shego? Because, if you're not you should probably take off the handcuffs."

Hobble is not a total idiot. He shouted at the Kimmunicator on my wrist, "You did it, didn't you? You erased the charges off the computer!"

Ron gave an answer, "Why would Wade do that?"

Hobble's brow furrowed in thought, "Hell if I know. It makes no sense. But she's still wanted. Even if he wiped out the charges on-line the hard copies of the warrants are around."

Muttering curses Hobble took the cuffs off me and headed back to the patrol car. If he'd had a sense of humor, or an imagination, he would have called back a Terminator line, "I'll be back." But at the moment he was too pissed off to consider being funny. Or maybe, like I said, he lacked a sense of humor and imagination. I'd never seen either during the four times he'd arrested me, but those don't exactly count as meeting under the best of circumstances.

I had to agree with Hobble on both points. I had no idea why Nerdlinger had stepped up for me, and erasing the charges from the internet didn't make me safe from arrest, it just delayed the inevitable.

"Road trip?" I suggested to Stoppable. "Can you drive me a couple hundred miles – in any direction before he comes back?"

The Kimmunicator vetoed the idea, "Not yet. I'm gonna try another thing or two."

"Like what?" I demanded.

"PR."

Ron looked clueless… Switch that, Ron looked normal. "What's PR?"

"Public relations," I explained, "Spin control. Like when some fascist politician says all Hispanics should be shot as illegals to pander to the racists and gun-nuts in his party, and then when it hits the paper his people insist the words were taken out of context, misquoted – even if it's on tape – and it as all a joke anyway." I held up my wrist and addressed the genius, "It's going to take more than good PR to keep me free."

"Maybe," he agreed. "But it won't hurt you to give it a try. You can break out of jail if you have to… You know, if you're good enough to pull this off you'll be fooling the police – tricking them into letting you stay free."

"Wade!" protested Stoppable, "She's a crook! She's wanted! She's dangerous! She's… She's standing right here beside me while I say bad things about her…"

"I'll let you live, this time," I promised.

"Hey, Shego is almost as good as Kim—"

"Better!" I growled

"—and Kim can't save lives while she's laid up with the broken leg. As long as Shego behaves no one is going to arrest—"

"Stop! I'm not a hero. I grew out of that years ago. I'm a thief. I get a good job offer and I'm out of here. Is that clear? I'm no hero."

Nerdlinger assumed a soothing tone, like he was trying to sound sympathetic to a crazy person's rant. "I know you're no hero. You'll be fooling people! A con artist is just another kind of thief. I think you're smart enough to pull it off."

First, I resented the hell out of his tone. Second I could see through his attempt to manipulate me. He couldn't have been more obvious if he tried. But Princess and I have the same flaw, neither of us can back away from a challenge – and I had the scratches from that damn mountain lion to prove it. "I know what you're doing," I warned, "but I'll play along, for now. What do you want me to do to improve my public image?"

"Nothing at the moment… I just sent out a press release on how you saved Kim's life and—"

"I didn't save Kim's life!"

"Looks good if we say that, and—"

"I didn't save Kim's life!"

"Look, that was what Ron told me after you brought her in. Take it up with him." I glared at Stoppable, who gave me his best 'I'm innocent' look. "Anyway, you also saved those kids last week. Helping Kim and saving those kids will buy you a lot of good will."

The light bulb went on in my head, "And you're going to want me to keep doing hero stuff, aren't you? That's what this is about. You want to trick me into doing things Kim can't do because of her broken leg, don't you?"

I could see the image of him on the small screen. He shrugged, "I won't lie to you, that's—"

"Good, don't even try."

"Fine, but why don't you look at it as you're fooling the police. You know, in your heart, you're as evil as ever, but people will think you're a hero. You'll fool them all!"

"She can't do it Wade, Shego can't act—"

"Shut up," I sighed. "I can see through you both. You're trying to trick me. I get it. There is no way in hell this will work. I'll play along for a little while – either until I get hired and move on or until it falls to pieces and I get arrested. A little betting pool, gentlemen? We each put in five bucks. My five says I get hired and move on first."

Nerdlinger chimed in with, "I'm in. My five says this works. We'll have Kim's mom hold the stakes. Ron? You in? Your five will be on Shego getting arrested."

He shrugged, "Got to admit that's what I think will happen."

Ron drove me to the hospital first to have a couple of the deeper scratches from Sassy looked it. The genius was fast. The local radio station playing in the car broadcast the story about my being in Middleton and the rescue before we got to the hospital.

And despite the fact his five bucks was on my being arrested Ron must have been laying it on pretty thick to anyone who'd listen while I was being patched up – there must have been a dozen people saying things like 'thanks', 'nice job', or 'way to go' as we left.

"I hope people don't really think I've gone soft," I grumbled as I rode back to the Possible home, "it'll fuck up my chances for a good job."

"It's all a con job," Stoppable reminded me. "you're as evil as ever."

"And don't patronize me," I warned, "I know damn well you and Nerdlinger—"

"He probably wouldn't mind if you called him Wade."

"I'll put that on the list of things to do after calling you Ron. The point is I know you're trying to con me into doing good. I'm not good, and don't you forget it."

First thing Kim demanded when we got back was to see how bad I got clawed up.

"I'd call it a tie," was Ron's vote.

Pumpkin asked for clarification "A tie for Sassy and Shego, or a tie between me and Shego?"

He shrugged, "Both, I guess."

The cheerleader seemed oddly happy. "Why you grinning," I demanded, "did they up your pain medication?"

"No, it was on the radio that you were the one who saved those kids. Now everyone at school will know Bonnie has been lying."

"Uh, KP, technically I'm not sure if she's been lying. Has she ever come out and said she was the one who did it?"

"I… I guess I never heard her say it. But she might have! She's sure tried to create the impression she did."

I grinned, "That girl sounds like she's pure evil. Maybe I should offer to go partners with her."

"Stay away from Bonnie," advised Kim, "she'll corrupt you."

Well, I didn't exactly stay away from Bonnie. I don't know if the Middleton Examiner thought up the idea on their own or if it was part of Nerdlinger's media blitz, but the paper called and wanted a picture of the 'Kim squad'.

The cheerleaders were all happy to have their pictures in the paper and be described as local heroes. Well, maybe not all the cheerleaders. One brunette did a lot of scowling and, with Kim on one side of the picture, this chick stood on the opposite side.

They stuck me right in the middle of the picture. Since there was no point in keeping my identity a secret any more I wore my green and black outfit.

The reporter with the photographer asked me about the bandages covering my fight with Sassy, and said it would make great copy.

The whole thing was just stupid. It didn't matter how much a genius Nerdlinger was, he couldn't wave a magic wand and make the charges against me disappear. Going public this way would just make Ron fifteen dollars richer that much sooner.

After the cheerleaders and reporters left Anne Possible issued orders, Kim and I were to visit the Middleton mall, go to Club Banana, and buy some outfits so I wouldn't be in her clothes all the time.

"With Monique's employee discount you can get a lot of stuff," Kim promised.

With her leg in the cast it takes a few extra minutes for Kim to get in a car, but we were soon on our way with me driving to the mall.

This was all happening way too fast, in my opinion. You need cunning, and planning, to pull off a successful con. I should be casing the joint… Still wasn't sure what the joint was in this particular scam. Casing a bank is figuring out when the guard takes lunch break, does the cleaning crew forget to look the door when they leave, and shit like that. How do you case public opinion? What are the weak points? Well, obviously the genius thought that if I did some nice acts, a few rescues, people might be willing to overlook my crimes. I still thought he was wrong, but decided to regard it as a win-win situation. If he was right – for a while at least – then I got some time to relax in freedom. If he was wrong it meant I was smarter than a genius.

I liked Kim's friend Monique, a pretty African-American woman with a great sense of style. Maybe not the brightest person I'd met. She seemed to have swallowed the line about me doing good. Told me corporate would love to see me saving people while wearing Club Banana togs, I could even get paid for endorsements. Paid to say I liked something? Maybe I'm in the wrong kind of crime.

Had finished at Club Banana and was going to check out a place Princess recommended for underwear when Wade's voice came over the Kimmunicator I'd given back to her.

"Shego is needed at the Workman's Credit Union in Upperton… You're at the mall?"

"Yes?"

"Can you drive?"

"No, Shego drove."

"Well have her drive you to Upperton."

I wanted to ask some more questions, but the cheerleader trusts her genius so we hustled out to the car and put the Club Banana bags in the back seat before hitting the road.

Once we got on the highway I ordered, "Hold up your arm, I want to know what's going on."

The Kimmunicator had probably been on the whole time, "Yes?" came the voice from the tiny speaker.

"Okay, why are we on the road to a bank?"

"Because I found the perfect rescue for you! I couldn't believe it! This one is—"

"Could you knock off the enthusiasm for a second and tell me what the hell you're talking about?"

"Ever heard of Jimmy Valentine?"

It took a second for the name to click, "Great-grandpa?"

"No, see it's a story about—"

"About my great-grandfather."

"It's a story, by O Henry—"

"Who heard it from my great-grandfather."

"Really?"

I laughed. "Of course not. Got you didn't I?"

"Yeah. You know the story?"

"Obviously. Safecracker turns over a new leaf, but rescues someone from vault revealing his identity… Seriously, someone in a bank vault?"

"Yep, right out of O Henry. I told you, this is perfect."

"Not so perfect," I warned. "I'm no safecracker. I got a couple ways of getting into a vault, but neither one is much good for anyone trapped inside."

Kim spoke up, "But with the Kimmunicator Wade can scan the safe and figure out the combination or some way to get in!"

"Exactly," the genius agreed.

"And I get the credit for the save?" I asked in disbelief.

"Great PR," he assured me.

"Wade, you're a bigger liar than I am. I think I like you."

"I'll take that as a compliment."

"Just don't become a bigger liar than Bonnie," warned Kim.

It was some kind of fancy time lock. I have no idea what the genius did… Well, what he did was to convince the vault door it was time for the credit union to open and it unlocked itself. After we got the two stupid tellers out – who thought a bank vault was the perfect place for a quickie after lunch – he reset the door to think it was the proper time.

Wade and Kim both told me to claim I did it. This was going to look real, real bad for my thief credit, breaking into a bank vault and stealing nothing. Or, I thought optimistically, maybe it will make me look good – I can crack into the most sophisticated vault around. I think that was what the bank manager figured. While the woman from the Upperton Tribune was asking me about how I did it, and I was trying to think of a good lie, I heard him in the background sounding worried and telling the guard they needed to upgrade security.

The whole thing of me going public, and not being arrested, still seemed crazy to me. In a couple days the whole house of cards would come crashing down. But I might as well enjoy the moment.

Back at the Possibles I was putting my new clothes away in the guest room closet and happened to glance out the window and noticed someone trying not to be noticed. I never expected everyone to be fooled by Wade's scheme. What's the saying about you can fool some of the people all of the time, but you can't fool all the people all the time? Anyway, the figure outside was in a police uniform.

I slipped out of a door on the other side of the house and circled around. Officer Hobble.

Hobble jerked with surprise when I tapped him on the shoulder, "What the hell are you doing? You're about forty pounds too heavy to be hiding behind a tree." I patted his belly.

"That's body armor, not fat."

"Maybe, but you're out of shape."

"Am not."

I grabbed a pen from his shirt pocket. "Catch me if you can," I taunted and ran. I figured once around the block would leave the ton of lard wheezing like a steam engine.

After about a hundred yards I glanced back, Hobble was on the ground.

" _Great,"_ I thought, _"I killed him. That isn't going to play well with the press. I can't believe he was that out of shape."_

I went back to see if I should call the hospital or the morgue, and he grabbed my ankle. "Caught you," he gloated.

"No you didn't."

"Yes I did."

"You on duty?"

"No."

"Can you tell me why an off-duty policeman, still in uniform, is harassing an innocent civilian? I should call the cops."

He let go of my ankle like it was a hot coal. "Don't give me that innocent crap."

"You got a warrant for me?"

"No," he admitted. "But I'm watching you."

"You can look, but you can't touch," I taunted.

"Gimme back my pen, cheap crook."

"Okay, pretend cop," I told him, handing back his pen.

"I'm not a pretend cop."

"You're off duty, still in uniform, and out here watching me? What would you call it?"

"A concerned citizen for justice."

"Let me call your captain and ask what he calls it."

I could see Hobble sweating. "He knows you're a crook too."

"Maybe. But shouldn't you wait for an assignment rather than being out here alone? Aren't you afraid the nasty criminal will hurt you? You haven't had any luck holding me in the past."

"Go to hell."

I shrugged, "Probably. In the meantime, why don't you go home?"

He slunk away. I was definitely calling it a win. Hobble might be back the next day with an arrest warrant, but I was putting today down in the win column for me.

The police weren't back the next day, or the next.

Not sure if the credit should go to Wade or to lay the blame on computers for making people stupid and dependent. Hell, everyone knew I was a crook, but when the police went to look up charges against me, and the search came up empty, they left me alone.

Almost alone anyway. Patrol cars went down the street in front of the Possible home a lot more often since I was outed. They knew I was a crook, and they probably had figured out Wade was the one making the on-line information about charges disappear

Kim sent her cheerleader buddies out on a few more missions.

I got a little antsy, wanting to get out of the house. But Wade told me that, unless the mission was big enough, it might be like waving a red flag in front of a bull. I should just be patient and wait for another couple big, heroic missions. That was easy for him to say; according to Kim he enjoyed spending his life in front of a computer screen. Me? I was crawling the walls from boredom. Kim probably was too.

At least I had a partial reprieve from boredom, Philip Marlowe day on Turner Classic Movies. I love the moral ambiguity of noir heroes. Maybe if Hego had gone gritty for Team Go instead of comic book squeaky clean... Might as well wish for a unicorn or a magical genie. Idiot big brother is strictly what he looks like, pure and simple. Double helping of the simple.

Saturday night, about a week after I was outed as Shego, and I was having dinner with the Possibles when the doorbell rang.

"I'll get it," Kim's dad told us and left the table.

He was back in a minute later with two police officers, Hobble and some guy I didn't remember ever seeing.

"Can I finish dinner before you arrest me?" I asked.

Hobble didn't open his mouth, but nudged the rookie who spoke, "We, uh… That is… Officer Hobble was—"

Hobble let out a low hiss, "Ask the damn question."

"We're hoping you could help us."

Kim and I looked at each other. Her expression was 'I can't believe this is happening.' My guess was, 'This is a trap, but they don't want a fight here in the Possible kitchen.'

"What's the matter?" Anne asked.

"Hostage situation. Guy took his ex-wife and their daughter hostage; he's threatening to kill them. We hope—"

Hobble's radio crackled to life and we all held our breaths while he got the news. "Woman escaped. He still has the girl."

I looked over at Kim. She was taking off her Kimmunicator. "Call Wade," she instructed me as she handed over the device.

The Kimmunicator was on, to let Wade listen as, as I asked for more details. Most of the details, like names, didn't matter. I could have guessed most of what did matter. Woman had taken a restraining order out against her abusive ex-husband. He'd gotten drunk, or high, or just pissed off and grabbed them, threatening to kill them.

I could have guessed some of the details because I knew them well. Had a friend in high school, Sylvie, who'd married right after graduation. Four years, and two kids later, she moved out. Took a restraining order out on the jerk – like those do any good. He grabbed the two kids one afternoon from the babysitter, and Sylvie hasn't seen them since. She has no idea if her kids are alive or dead, or where they are.

* * *

"Here," Officer Hobble announced. I could have guessed it from the number of police cars parked around the decrepit apartment building. He rolled down a window and called to an officer, "All the tenants out?"

"Yeah. He's locked up in their old place on the third floor."

"How'd she get out?"

"Jumped from bathroom window. Bruised but okay."

"Kid's still there?"

The policeman nodded.

Meanwhile I'd been busy casing the joint. I should have no trouble reaching the roof. There was an open window on the top floor, the fourth. If the guy was still on the third floor I should be able to surprise him without trouble.

"Sure about the third?" I asked

"That's where he was. He—"

I could see a couple cops huddled together and one of them was talking. He waved to get our attention and everyone shut up. A couple minutes later he sent one of the men with him over to us.

"Guy is ordering us to leave. He'll kill the girl if we don't. Brewster's trying to get him to calm down, is telling him we can't leave without official permission – told him it would take us twenty minutes to get it. He says he'll give us fifteen." He looked to me for a sign of hope.

"Give me ten," I promised. "Wade?"

"Got your back," came the voice over the Kimmunicator. I still wasn't exactly sure what this damned Kimmunicator could do, but it seemed like I'd seen Kim do miracles with the it.

It took me six minutes to get in the top floor window. I could have done it faster, but it would have made a noise. I felt confident the jerk had no idea another person was in the building.

I'd been part of the theater group in high school. I never got cast in a part. There are no parts for freaky kids with green skin. No, I worked as a techie, one of the kids who set and ran the lights for the performances. One of the plays we'd done was about Jason and… No, Jason was in it, but it was one of those ancient Greek plays, Medea. Medea and Jason had been shacked up for years after she betrayed her dad and helped him get the golden fleece. Jason never bothered to marry Medea, and one day Jason got engaged to a princess and told Medea to fuck off – and leave their sons with him. Medea took their sons and lit out. When Jason followed she cut up the boys and dropped the pieces for Jason to find. Medea loved her sons. She would be in misery for the rest of her life, but it didn't matter, because she wanted Jason to be in misery for the rest of his life.

Those are not pleasant thoughts to have running through your head when you're trying to find and stop a father threatening to kill his kid.

Apparently one of the things the Kimmunicator has is thermal imaging, and the day was cool enough that Wade had no trouble zeroing in on the location of the apartment, or the room in the apartment.

The guy wasn't holding the kid in the living room. The lock was no problem. Had a little more trouble with the chain, but that didn't slow me down for too long.

The two heat signatures were together in what was probably a bedroom. He might have been holding the kid. I couldn't tell. It sounded like some kind of low conversation going on, but I couldn't pick up actual words.

My watch said it had been twelve minutes since he told the cops to clear out. A muffled voice of a man said something, and the smaller heat signature got down from his lap and went over to a wall. Larger heat signature raised his arms in front of his face and did something – call the police was my guess – and then one hand went up beside his head and the other went down to his lap.

He sure as hell was not expecting the kick that smashed down the door. He was fumbling for a gun, but I didn't give him time to reach it.

The next three, four seconds were a blur to me, but the bastard was down on the floor and I was kneeling on him, and I was hitting him. I'm not sure what I was thinking. Maybe I was thinking of Medea. Maybe I was thinking if the restraining order didn't keep him away this would. Maybe I was thinking of Sylvie and the two kids she hasn't seen in years.

The things I become consciously aware of were two small fists, pounding on my back, and a child's voice screaming, "Don't hurt my daddy!"


	5. Don't Leave for Tomorrow

Boilerplate Disclaimer: The various characters from the Kim Possible series are all owned by Disney. Any and all registered trade names property of their respective owners. Cheap shots at celebrities constitute fair usage.

And a word of thanks to Feudor, Gabrielblade, Invader Johnny, Joe Stoppinghem, Lhyaran, Muzzlehatch, noncynic, NSLC, Obsessive Imaginings, sailor8t, and zzzoo99 for reviews – now in NEW & IMPROVED order! (Alphabetical, as compared with last week's chronological.)

 **Don't Leave for Tomorrow**

 _ **It's the code of the west, you don't leave for tomorrow  
The code of the west, what can be done today  
The code of the west, it's a true fact of livin'  
What so lovingly given will lovingly come back yer way**_

The lieutenant governor and state attorney general met with the governor in her office. The governor actually smiled at the attorney general – something she did not do often because the wise citizens of the state had voted in a governor, and an attorney general, from two different parties. It insured they kept each other honest, and in this particular instance it insured neither party could use the discussion about to take place for its own political advantage.

"Gentlemen."

They nodded to acknowledge her greeting.

"The latest news on what's happening with Shego?"

"Governor out there has given her a pardon for any crimes committed in the state for that last mission she did."

"Well, he dodged the bullet," the lieutenant governor grumbled. "What in the hell are we supposed to do?"

"As you may have guessed that's why I called you in," the governor reminded him. "The problem is obvious. What we need is a solution." She turned to the attorney general, "Four crimes she's charged with here?"

He nodded.

The governor continued, "The two obvious possibilities are to issue a pardon, which makes me look weak on law and order or for you to request extradition, which makes you look bad for wanting to prosecute someone who's saving lives and apparently trying to turn her life around."

"Yeah," the lieutenant governor spoke up, "and if you give her a pardon, and then she goes back to crime it really looks bad."

"Hence our dilemma," the governor agreed. "I'd like more options. Mark?"

Her lieutenant shook his head, then sat quietly for a minute. He turned to the AG, "Could your office just kind of lose the charges? From what I hear anything that goes up on the internet about warrants for her arrest just kind of disappears."

"Yeah, what goes up on the web vanishes. But the hard copies of those charges are on file. If those 'disappear' it looks like I'm running a bassackwards office."

"Which looks bad for the state as a whole," the governor agreed. "I want something with flexibility. It's premature to talk about a pardon. This could be some kind of con game Shego is running. But I don't want us to look petty and vindictive if we ask for extradition. Is there a way to keep our options open until we have a better sense of what's really happening?"

Although not a friend of the governor the attorney general was still pleased to report, "I think I know what to do."

"Great! Your recommendation?"

"Charges against her here are fairly minor. The Feds have her charged with really serious crimes. We announce that we're waiting for the Feds to decide how to move – kick it upstairs."

The lieutenant governor seemed excited by the prospect, "Put out a press release. The governor, and attorney general, after joint consultation, have decided not to waste taxpayer money on pursuing the matter at this time."

"Some reason you want your name left off the press release?" the suspicious AG asked.

"Hell no! You two are the ones that count. I'd be happy to put my name out there too.

The governor nodded. "Good. Have your office write up a draft. Send copies to me and David and if both our offices approve we can have it out for the evening news. Joint press conference. Share and share alike."

"And may God have mercy on the Feds," the lieutenant governor intoned solemnly, bringing laughter, and an 'Amen' from the other two.

* * *

Things were not as well organized at the Federal level. The Surgeon General, after saving the life of the President by applying the Heimlich maneuver to keep the Commander-in-chief from choking on a fried pork rind, inquired, "What are you thinking of doing about the Shego affair?"

"I haven't had an affair with… Are you thinking of the last President?"

"Sorry. I forget you don't read the news. You might want to brush up on the details, in case you're asked at a press conference."

" _I don't need no newspapers, they're just filled with rubbish like facts. I'll ask Laura, or call my brain."_

In the Oval Office he put through a call to the Vice President. "Dick? You busy? Someone asked me something about an affair with Shego. I haven't had an affair with anyone named Shego, have I? There are some years there I don't remember."

"You haven't had any affairs. And if you had we'd have covered it up like your drunken driving arrests, tax dodges, and National Guard records. There is a criminal named Shego who is acting like a hero and we're not sure what to do. If we don't call for her arrest we're soft on crime. But the fact she is saving lives means it would also look bad if we called for her arrest."

"A criminal? What has she done?"

"Well, as I read the Attorney General's report it appears there is very little she hasn't done."

"Ohhh… That's bad."

"Correct."

"But she's saving lives now… What is her standing in the polls?"

"Very high. Better than ours at the moment."

"Ohhh… Is that good for us or bad for us?"

"We're trying to decide."

"Can I talk with the Attorney General, please?"

"No."

"But I'm the President of the United States."

"What he says only confuses you… You are only to talk with me; what anyone says only confuses you. Besides, Ashcroft is being fitted for a new white robe this afternoon. But I spoke with him earlier."

"Good. Can you tell me what he said, in little words?"

"Well, she's not Muslim, black, or Hispanic. She's also riding high in the popularity polls. But she's wanted in ten other countries. Since our last three unilateral policies have failed he—"

"I thought our last three una… uno… unie… Heck, those nateral things were successes."

"That's what we're having Fox Spews tell the public. The point is, we need a gesture to the world community which believes we don't care if they all go to hell, we—"

"But they are going to hell right?"

"Of course they are, Mr. President," the Vice President answered in a soothing tone. "Anyone who doesn't vote Republican is going to hell. Just ask the televangelists. But it might hurt us in the polls to arrest her, so we'll let the UN step in and decide who should try her."

"But we don't like the UN… Do we?"

"Of course not, but let them take the blame for persecuting an American hero."

* * *

Shego had spent a lot of time lying in bed, staring at the ceiling and thinking since the hostage rescue.

Kim went into the guest bedrooms, multiple times a day, asking if she could help and having her offers rebuffed.

At Middleton High Kim had formally resigned from the cheerleading squad. She was told her resignation would not be accepted. She would remain an honorary cheerleader – and the captain – for the rest of the year.

Kim absolutely refused to be called captain of the cheerleaders. That was for someone out of the floor cheering on the teams. When pressed to nominate a successor Kim had also refused, insisting the others must choose for themselves.

Bonnie hinted she would consider the position of captain, and felt she was the logical and best choice.

If Bonnie hadn't misled the other members of the squad about helping Kim on Shego's first rescue the brunette might have been elected. But Bonnie had lost all support because of her actions. The debate over who should become the new captain lasted almost half an hour before Hope and Marcella emerged as compromise candidates and enjoyed almost unanimous approval from everyone but Bonnie for the title of joint captains.

Like the other cheerleaders Kim usually wore the lower tech version of the Kimmunicator, Shego having the loaded model in case Wade needed to help with a mission. Kim was therefore surprised by Wade's call.

"Global Justice wants to talk with you."

"They know I have a broken leg?"

"Yes… I don't think it's for a mission."

"They why do they want to talk with me?"

"Hey, they don't want to talk with me, they want to talk with you. My guess would be they want to talk about Shego."

"I don't know what I can say, but patch me through."

The image on the screen changed to that of Elizabeth Director, head of Global Justice.

"Mr. Load, is this line absolutely secure?"

"Yes it is."

"Kimberly are you at a location where you are able to answer freely and honestly."

"Yes."

"Kimberly, I need to know. Are you and your family safe? Are you being held hostage or threatened by Shego in any way?"

"No."

"Is there some hold you have over Shego? Has she been drugged or mind-controlled in… Your mother is a brain surgeon, correct?"

"Mom's a brain surgeon. She hasn't done anything to Shego. What is this all about?"

"I'm trying to understand what is happening there in Middleton. What is Shego's motivation? What is she trying to do?"

Kim hesitated. "I'm not sure."

"I feel safe in assuming you know more than has been in the media. Could you please give me your report and/or opinions on the matter, and specify what is fact and what is opinion."

"I broke my leg. Drakken wanted to take advantage of the situation, but Shego refused to help him. She quit and—"

"Shego helped you?"

"She's done it a few times before, when someone or something else has threatened me she's rescued me."

"So, refusing to take advantage this time represents part of consistent pattern?"

"Yes."

"I'm sorry if this sounds intrusive or personal, but is there any chance Shego might have a romantic interest in you, or that such an interest might be reciprocated?"

Kim blushed, "We're not lesbians… I'm not any way… I don't… No way."

"Shego quit working for Drakken rather than harming you?"

"Yes."

"Do you know what her plans are for the future?"

"No… Not for sure."

"Apparently we are moving from the realm of facts to the realm of opinion. I would like to hear your views."

"Well, after Shego quit Drakken she was looking for another job in crime, but she wasn't having much luck. The last few weeks… I want to think she's happy helping people… Maybe she's just happy because of the fuss about her in the papers. The last few days she's been really down. I don't know what is happening with her."

"You don't know if she is interested in returning to crime or not?"

"No."

"Your opinion of her frankness. Would she be honest about her plans if directly questioned?"

"I don't… Maybe. Why?"

"Global Justice is weighing options. Since Shego seems to be in the open in Middleton at the present I feel like we have a couple days to explore different approaches. We will be in contact again."

The transmission ended. Kim wondered if she should mention the conversation to Shego. After long consideration she decided against it.

At the end of supper that evening Shego headed directly to her room. Anne spoke to her daughter, "Kim, would you help your brothers clean up? I want to try and talk with Shego."

"Sure, Mom. Good luck."

Anne Possible knocked gently on the guest room door.

"Go away, Princess."

"Wrong," Anne said and walked in.

"You can still go away."

"Or I can sit down," Anne said, taking a chair by the bed, "and you can tell me what's wrong."

"Nothing's wrong."

"You lie very poorly."

"I don't want to talk about it."

"I'm sure you don't. I'm almost as certain you will be better off if you do, and convinced it can't hurt."

Shego said nothing. Anne waited five minutes in silence.

"You should know by now I'm at least as stubborn as you."

"Yeah, and you passed it on to your daughter too."

"True. So you recognize you might as well surrender and tell me what's on your mind."

Shego was silent for moment then asked, "Do you think I'm fucking nuts?"

"Excuse me?"

"Am I crazy?"

"I'm a brain surgeon, dear, not a psychiatrist."

"You asked me what's on my mind. I'm telling you."

It was Anne's turn to be silent for a minute. "Please remember, I'm a brain surgeon. I deal with the physiology of the brain… Actually there is a question as to how well the physiology of the brain may tie in with function in cases of abnormal behavior. I—"

"Can you give me an opinion and not a lecture?"

"Our conversations seem rational. By the standards usually associated with 'crazy' – and I don't like that term. It is offensive and imprecise. But by the standards usually associated with 'crazy' I'd say you are sane. Why do you ask?"

"Been running through my mind ever since that rescue. That dad was threatening to kill his own kid. I wanted to kill him, it reminded me… Never mind. I was beating on the son-of-a-bitch and the little girl came over and stopped me. In retrospect I'm glad she did. You read about things in the paper, see them on television… Some guy takes an assault rifle to a clock tower and shoots dozens. Some woman drives her car with five kids into the river and they all drown. Some guy stabs a co-worker for playing the wrong radio station, and then sets fire to his office… Do we try them for murder or put them in the nut house for being crazy? You'd have to be crazy to do shit like that, wouldn't you?"

"That is an interesting question. It is one the courts need to decide."

"Well I don't trust the courts. The judges are political hacks and they don't know shit about people's mental states."

Anne thought a minute, "Perhaps you are right. But you aren't a murderer."

"Do you have to be a murderer to be fucking crazy? Was my job for Drakken any different than setting fire to a grade school? Should I be locked up in the funny farm?"

"Must you always find the most offensive language possible to express some deep and insightful questions?"

"It's part of my charm."

"I know a very good charm surgeon at the hospital. Perhaps we can arrange a charm transplant."

"Where you gonna find a donor?"

"Hmmm… good question. In the meantime, I will suggest that the fact you even ask those questions of yourself means you're sane. Standard disclaimer applies."

"The one where you're a brain surgeon and not a shrink?"

"You're really asking to have your mouth washed out with soap."

"Really think you could do it?"

"Really think you could stop me?"

"How about you go back to telling me you don't think I'm nuts? I need to hear that right now."

Anne and Shego came down stairs fifteen minutes later.

"Kim?"

"Yes, Mom?"

"Are you done with homework?"

"Yes."

"Take Shego to see a movie. Find a comedy and—"

"Or an action flick," Shego interrupted.

"Fine, or an action movie you both like and go watch it."

"But—"

"You're both spending too much time in the house, and Shego needs a break."

* * *

There was an unfamiliar car parked in front of the Possible home the next evening when Shego returned from a mission. Despite the fact it was probably a reporter the green woman's stomach tightened slightly, she didn't like surprises.

The big surprise was waiting in the kitchen.

Anne Possible started the introduction, "Shego, this is—"

"Doctor Elizabeth Director, head of Global Justice," Shego finished. "I've seen her picture in the paper. And those two guys are probably her agents, and I'm guessing their names don't really matter. The shorter guy looks way too smug and thinks he has a chance against me in a fight. The tall one is smarter, and he's really hoping I don't try anything."

"The shorter guy," Betty told her, "is named Will Du, and is far better than you're giving him credit for."

"Will Du… Pumpkin mentioned a Will Du one time. And if he's the guy he isn't better than I think."

Agent Du tensed, and Dr. Director glared at him for moving at all and he resumed a more relaxed posture.

"So, you here to arrest me?" Shego asked. "You think these two guys will be enough?"

"I am here to talk with you. And your recent behavior suggests you might allow yourself to be arrested. I would like to hear your plans and perhaps offer an option."

"I don't really have any plans."

"Are you giving up crime?"

"I told you, I don't really have any plans."

"You were a hero once, with Team Go, do you plan to rejoin Team Go, or to continue to work as a hero?"

"What part of, 'I don't really have any plans' do you not understand?"

"I would like to discuss a possibility with you."

"And that is?"

"Your recent actions have impressed a number of people. Three states have given you pardons and—"

"Four."

"Three."

"Do you have Wisconsin, yesterday?"

"Du! My dossier is supposed to be current!"

"It was current when it was printed, Dr. Director."

"Did you know about Wisconsin?"

"I… I assumed you…"

"Don't make any assumptions!"

"So, if you're too busy to read the news," Shego asked, "why did you come out here to talk to me?"

"I warned you she can be annoying," Anne reminded Betty.

"Did she tell you it's part of my charm?" the green woman asked.

"She did not," Dr. Director answered through gritted teeth, "and I certainly do not believe it. You are making me re-evaluate our offer."

"What offer?" Shego wanted to know.

Betty took the curiosity as a good sign. "Global Justice is a department of the United Nations. As a law enforcement agency it is not within our power to issue pardons, but governments take a recommendation from us very seriously. If you were to agree come and work for Global Justice I think we would be in a position to leverage that into your freedom."

"But I'd be working for you."

"That is correct."

"I'm not sure I'd call that freedom."

"You could go anywhere in the world, without worrying about arrest."

"I could go where you sent me, and do what you tell me to do."

"You're being offered the chance of a pardon, don't you understand that?"

Kim, who had been sitting silently during the exchange, spoke up, "It's a great offer, Shego."

"No it's not. Not for me anyway."

Dr. Director sighed, "Somehow I knew you weren't going to make this easy. Okay, you're not interested in working toward a pardon. And I heard you say, and repeat, that you don't have any definite plans. Time to shit or get off the pot. You don't have to tell me what you want to do next year. You don't have to tell me what you want to do next month. You're a wanted criminal. You're staying in the home of your worst enemy, and you're helping people. What the hell is going on? If you can't tell me what you plan to do, can you at least tell me what the hell you're currently doing?"

"Good question. After I quit working for Drakken I brought Princess home and got an invite to stay in the guest room. I figured I'd be gone in a day or two. Turns out the job market for high end thieves is in the dumpster right now. So I figured I'd earn my keep until Princess was back on her feet by helping out. My theory was it wouldn't last long. I'd get arrested, break out of jail, and take it on the lam. Hasn't worked out so hot. I've been outed, but I haven't been arrested yet. I'm still doing good. I tell you, life sucks sometimes. So, you going to change my luck and try and arrest me?"

"You honestly mean to say that, until Kim is back in shape you plan to stay here and perform missions. That sounds crazy."

"Don't say 'crazy' in front of Anne here. She'll wash your mouth out with soap."

There was a moment of silence in the kitchen. The tall agent finally spoke. "Scenario five?"

"We can try," the head of Global Justice sighed.

Shego tensed, "Scenario five?"

"We prepared for every eventuality we could think of."

"How many have them with me telling you to go to hell and resisting arrest?"

"Three. In scenario twenty-four you are killed while resisting arrest."

"Have any where I get away?"

"No. We only plan for success, not failure. If it makes you feel any better you incapacitate two of us before the third shoots you." She turned to the taller agent. "Markov, the ankle bracelet." He removed a box from his pocket and handed it over.

"Shego," Dr. Director reminded her, "you're wanted in ten countries."

"Eleven."

"Ten, Belgium pardoned you for your quote, rehabilitation, unquote–"

"You sound skeptical."

"Imagine that. At the moment your legal status, should you decide to accept it, will be like the US considers out on bail. One condition of your remaining free is that you wear this GPS monitoring ankle bracelet at all times. We are also leaving an agent in Middleton to monitor your continued compliance with your current lawful behavior. Global Justice will not be working to help you with a pardon, and at such time as you return to your life of crime, or one of the nations where you are wanted insists upon your immediate arrest, your arrest will be deemed a priority." She handed the box over to Shego. "You put it on, scenario five. You stay here. You wear that. Agent Du here remains in Middleton."

Shego opened the box and stared at the device. "Put this on, and I stay here – don't have to worry about arrest?"

"That is correct, for the moment anyway. Circumstances might change your status."

"If I put this on... What exactly does it mean? How does it restrict my movements?"

"It not quite the same as being free on your own recognizance. But despite the fact Will Du is assigned to monitor your activities you have greater freedom than if you were on parole. You will not be allowed in any of the nations in which you are wanted, with the exceptions of the United States and Canada... Can you tell me what in the hell you were doing in Moldova?"

"Haven't you read the charges?"

"I've read the charges. I'm asking Moldova? What in the hell were you thinking? Was that one of Drakken's?"

"No," Shego admitted. "That was one of mine. It seemed like a good idea at the time."

"Illegal entry – and departure... You were probably avoiding the police in... Ukraine? Russia? Romania?"

"Am I wanted in any of those three?"

"No, but that doesn't mean you didn't pull a job in one of them."

"And it would be in my best interests to confess that now to the head of Global Justice?"

Dr. Director chewed her lip for a minute, "Perhaps not. But if you are charged for a major crime in one of those nations it could cause me to rescind the offer we made. Oh, and while you have a great deal of freedom there are nations where it is simply inadvisable for an American – or anyone else – to go."

"I've got no urge to try North Korean cooking."

Shego wanted another assurance. She took the device from the box and held it up, "So... put this on, and I'm free from arrest?"

"Not exactly. I told you, if any of the nations where you're wanted demands your arrest we will come for you. Or, if you return to crime."

"And you'll know exactly where I am."

"True."

"What happens if I lose this, or need to take it off for a mission or something?"

"You will inform Agent Du of the matter and a new monitor will be provided."

"Is there a bug in this? Can you hear what I'm saying?"

"No."

"Hope you don't mind if I check." She turned on the Kimmunicator. "Wade? Can you scan this for a bug?"

A green light shone from the Kimmunicator and swept over device in Shego's hand. "GPS," Wade reported, "It could track you on the moon. But no microphone."

"No room," Dr. Director admitted. "The transmitter for the GPS and batteries took up most of the space."

"Do it, Shego!" Kim urged.

The green woman hesitated, then looked at Will Du. "You're going to be my parole officer?"

"No he's not," Betty began, "his role–"

"Close enough," Shego interrupted, cutting her off. She addressed Will, "Catch!" and tossed him the GPS device. She then extended a shapely leg at the flustered agent. "Put it on me."

"I... Er... You could put it on yourself."

"It's always so much nicer when a man puts a piece of jewelery on you," the thief purred.

Kim tried to hide her giggles as Will Du fastened the chain around Shego's ankle with shaky hands. Shego made no similar effort to hide her laughter.

"T-t-there." he stammered.

Shego lifted her leg high in the air, as if to view of the device, but actually to give Agents Du and Markov a good look at her leg. "That's all the higher you get to go on my leg... today," she announced as Du blushed crimson.

Elizabeth Director closed her eyes, and a pained expression crossed her face, "Damn it, this is turning into scenario seven."

"Is that the one where I seduce him?" Shego asked in a cheery voice.

"No, It's the one where I punch you in the nose. I'm getting out of here. If you have additional questions about your legal status consult with Agent Du."

The head of Global Justice rose to her feet and headed for the door, with Agent Markov following her.

"I, uh, will be staying at the Middleton Gardens," Will said nervously. "Here is my phone number, if you need to reach me." He handed Shego a card.

The green woman unzipped her top a few inches and stuck the card inside. "I'll keep it close to my heart," she purred. "Since we're going to be seeing so much of each other we should go out for drinks this evening. Be here at eight."

"What are you doing?" Kim demanded after Will left.

Shego laughed, "Just playing with his head."

"You might consider taking it a little more seriously," Anne scolded. "Their offer to try and get pardons for you was very generous."

"They asked me to sell my soul to them. I'd have to do what they told me."

"Most jobs are like that," Anne pointed out.

"Yeah, you worked for Drakken, remember?" Kim reminded her.

She was silent for a moment, then grunted, "I think you just figured out why I put up with him. It wasn't a forty hour week. He gave me a lot of freedom to do what I wanted if there was no particular job going on."

"Well there are not a lot of jobs where you'd enjoy that much flexibility," said Anne. "And if you go to prison you'll be told what to do twenty-four - seven."

* * *

Will Du rang the doorbell of the Possible home at precisely eight that evening.

"Shego suggested that the two of us discuss the creation of a mutual and positive working relationship in the context of the current environment," he reminded Anne.

Anne did not believe that was why the thief had made the suggestion, but the brain surgeon had extracted a promise from Shego that she would be on her best behavior and hoped that the potential for freedom would help the situation.

Shego fully intended to behave. The road is hell is paved with good intentions.

Du proved to be both a total bore and completely full of himself. Either is bad enough by itself. The combination can be deadly. Rather than trying to say anything about herself, which she felt would not have interested him, she got him talking about himself – a subject he clearly loved. With the ease of practice from her years with Drakken she ignored most of his monologue.

His boasts about his fighting abilities were impossible to ignore, and seemed likely to go on forever.

Shego began ordering large drinks, two at a time. One for her, and one for Du. Du congratulated himself on his brilliant conversation and kept up with Shego's consumption of alcohol.

Shego usually avoided heavy bouts of drinking. Drunkenness hurts every skill the green woman took pride in and it was rare for her to order more than a couple drinks. But the comet which gave her the plasma powers also gave her the ability to burn off the alcohol in her body faster and with fewer effects to her system.

She gave Du credit for being game. He kept up with her. During the third double he fell silent, to her relief. During the fourth double he fell over in the booth, snoring loudly, to her even greater relief.

Shego got out her cell phone and called the Middleton Police. "Is officer Hobble on duty tonight."

 _"Yes."_

"Thanks, can I speak with him?"

 _"He's on patrol. Can you speak to another officer?"_

"No, I'd really like to speak to Hobble."

 _"May I ask who is calling, and what you are calling in regard to?"_

"This is Shego, and–"

 _"Let me transfer this call to his patrol car."_

"Thanks."

Hobble walked into the bar twelve minutes later with a sour look on his face. Shego waved cheerfully.

"This is the drunk I told you about," she told him. "I checked. He doesn't have any ID on him."

Hobble raised an eyebrow, "So how did he pay for his drinks?"

"He's got a pocketful of cash," Shego answered innocently. "I didn't take a penny."

"Sure," he snorted.

"So... You'll take him to the drunk tank to sleep it off?"

The policeman shrugged, "Probably."

"And I don't want to get pulled over for DWI. Why don't you drive me back to the Possibles?"

"I drive a police car, not a taxi cab."

"You owe me for the rescue a couple weeks ago."

"The notice was up down at the station. Sounds like you got paid for that one already. We're supposed to leave you alone."

"I don't care, you still owe me."

"Fine. I'll drag this guy out and take you home."

As he started the car Hobble grudgingly admitted, "Thanks for your help the other day."

Shego didn't answer immediately. "It was... I... Ever wanted to beat the crap out of someone you arrest?"

"The guy had a gun. He'd threatened to kill his ex-wife and threatened to kill his daughter. You were justified to use force."

"That's not what I asked. I asked if you ever want to beat the crap out of someone you arrest?"

"Once... Maybe twice a month."

"Ever done it?"

"I'd be off the force if I did."

"Is that what keeps you from doing hitting the bastards?"

"Not so much. I have a little mantra I keep repeating, 'innocent until proven guilty'." He glanced over at the woman beside him. "It's a little easier to say for some perps than others."

"Present company included?"

"Present company included."

Shego stared out the car window for half a block. "Tell you what. Next time you come to arrest me I'll go easy on you."

"The governor, the Feds, and Global Justice are all saying leave you alone. At least as long as you're keeping your nose clean. How about next time you get into trouble you do it outside Middleton so I don't have to deal with you at all?"

"Why Officer Hobble," Shego pouted, "it almost sounds like you don't like me."

"Can't imagine why," he grunted as he stopped in front of the Possible home.

"Thanks for the lift," the green woman told him as she got out.

"You're welcome," he told her. "Don't mention it." He put the car in drive and called, "Please, don't mention it," as he drove away.

* * *

There is no evidence John Ashcroft belonged to the Klan, although he wrote articles which appeared in their publications. He lost election to the US Senate in 2000 when, in the words of John McCutheon "the people of Missouri said, they'd rather vote for a man who's dead." The Bush Administration still rewarded him with the post of Attorney General. He supported the loss of civil liberties for all Americans in the general hysteria which followed in the wake of the 9/11 terrorist attacks, but did a very poor job of investigating billions of dollars in white collar theft by supporters of the Republican Party. He actually had a fine moment, while drugged up in the hospital awaiting surgery for pancretitus, Neo-Cons in the administration tried to get him to sign documents that would have violated the idea of rule by law. He refused to sign. After leaving office he became a high-paid lobbyist for some firms which fail to file required reports, some with questionable ethics (see Oracle Corporation), and others whose names he refused to divulge - all the while claiming the highest level of integrity. Maybe for lobbyists that represents integrity.


	6. Do Unto Others

Boilerplate Disclaimer: The various characters from the Kim Possible series are all owned by Disney. Any and all registered trade names property of their respective owners. Cheap shots at celebrities constitute fair usage.

If it wasn't clear last chapter, Global Justice is under UN supervision. Dr. Director must sometimes follow directives from the Security Council or other upper administrators whether she approves of the policy or not.

Thanks to ShadowDancer01, Invader Johnny, Mimico Florido, LJ58, Obsessive Imaginings, GabrielBlade, noncynic, and NSLC for reviews.

[Shego's POV]

 **Do Unto Others**

 _ **The code of the west  
You must do unto others  
Do unto others before they do it unto you**_

Kim gave me hell the next day. Apparently she'd been called out of third period class and asked to identify some drunk, who'd spent the night sleeping it off in jail, claiming to be a Global Justice agent .

She gave me hell, but I suspect she was secretly amused. Still, I'll wait awhile before I suggest she should have told the police she'd never seen the guy before in her life and told them to send him the psych ward for evaluation.

Ron and the cheerleaders got a 'big' mission that I was almost excluded from.

There was a grand hoop-la for the opening of a new wing at Middleton Research. All kinds of big mucky-mucks, politicos and scientists were invited.

Turned out a lot of the catering crew were working for the Chinese, they planned to plant bugs all over the place... Why in the hell were they even holding the banquet at the research center instead of some ballroom at a downtown hotel? That was asking for trouble. But does anyone ask a thief how to improve security? Noooo! Who in the hell could give them a better idea how to improve security than a professional thief? These guys may be geniuses (expect for the politicians, of course), but they've got their heads up their collective asses.

The Chinese, of course, denied it. They always do. Why do they bother – no one believes them. Frankly I suspect some of the spies were double-dipping and planting bugs for Israel too, but that's my opinion – which no one asked for. However the Jewish lobby accuses you of being anti-Semitic if you mention some of the shit the Israeli government is doing, so most people keep their mouths shut.

And Middleton Research should have recognized any caterers offering the menu they'd been promised, at the price per plate quoted, had to be crooks of some sort.

Where was I... Oh, yeah. Small local caterer called in, but Ron served as head chef for the shindig and the cheerleaders were asked to serve – in their cheerleading uniforms. The mayor swore it was to show off the local heroes to the visiting VIPs. I suspect he found the idea of cute girls serving the meal in short skirts too great a temptation.

I was told I wasn't wanted for the 'mission', which pleased me. I don't bake cakes, jump out of them, or spend time in kitchens if I can help it.

Ron, at Kim's urging, kicked up a fuss. I was to be a hostess of some sort to greet guests as they arrived for the meal. I considered it a dirty trick from the Princess, but she probably figured I needed practice smiling and saying nice things to annoying people.

Du, representing Global Justice, protested my being allowed anywhere near Middleton Research, He got put in a position kind of like maitre d', where he could watch me and monitor the cheerleaders.

Well, after the initial espionage plot security was higher. They brought in a metal detector, and Will Du had to surrender all his GJ equipment before they let him in... I thought they'd need to perform a body cavity search to get it all. So he was in a foul mood, and expressed it by yelling at the cheerleaders...

Word of advice, don't piss off a Middleton cheerleader. I already knew that from my fights with Pumpkin. He managed to piss off a half dozen very capable young women. And, since he was watching me like a hawk, he knew I had nothing to do with his problems later that evening.

Du's equipment was missing at the end of the night. The next day Jessica offered it to me. I turned down the offer – since I was living 'clean' at the moment. I called Wade to ask for advice, not mentioning who had the stuff, and was told the anonymous 'repentant thief' could send it to him. Maybe he kept it himself for reverse engineering. Du's car? Found in Lowerton the next day up on blocks with all four tires gone. The tread on Crystal's tires had been getting a little thin.

The cheerleaders worked Du over enough that I didn't mind I'd missed my opportunity at the banquet.

When I learned he'd be there, watching me, I'd borrowed a lipstick from Pumpkin. (Not a good idea to use my own shade.) I rubbed a nice blob onto a cloth napkin and folded it so it didn't show.

I'd been waiting for my target to get close when Officer Hobble, one of the policemen on duty there, came over to chew me out.

"Why'd you ask for me by name the other night?"

"'Cause you're one of the few cops I know the name of."

"Any policeman could have handled it. It looks unprofessional for me to get a call asking for me by name – especially from you."

I shrugged.

Then he nodded his head towards Will Du. "And you knew damn well who he was, didn't you?"

"Yeah, turns out his wallet fell into my handbag. Don't know how that happened."

He glared at me, "I can't believe you're turning over a new leaf."

"A new leaf? Me? Who told you that?"

He looked confused, "But... You..."

I put a finger to my lips, in a 'keep it secret' gesture. "Evil as ever," I whispered. "Got 'em all fooled."

He actually grinned at me, "Good. I was afraid pigs were learning to fly."

Hobble started to turn to go back to his position when I stopped him, "Hold on, handsome – something on your cheek." A little flattery was the proper bait for my trap. I took out the napkin and carefully wiped his cheek, unfolding it to get at the lipstick smear.

I wasn't a good enough artist to make it look like a lip print. It looked more like he'd done a crappy job trying to wipe lipstick off his cheek.

"Perfect," I told him.

"Thanks."

It's not clear, to me, whether Du or Hobble is the better straight man.

* * *

Princess got her first cast replaced. The doctor assured her the leg was setting perfectly, but it would still be months before it was completely healed. She wanted it healed yesterday, and was in a blue funk, so I took her out to the movies.

As we got to the door of the multiplex a cop car rolled by and honked. I looked over and saw Hobble shaking his fist at me. I blew him a kiss.

* * *

Too many easy missions, and no Princess to fight. I felt like I was getting fat and out of shape. Ron suggested sparring with him. While I figured he just wanted to up his own game I accepted. If he manages to keep his pants from falling down Stoppable can fight. Either that or I was in worse shape than I realized.

Ron bailed on me one night when we'd planned to work out – something about babysitter backing out with a cold and needing to watch his little sister. Du offered to take his place.

"Sure! Thanks." I knew he wanted to prove how good he was. I wanted to show him he wasn't nearly as good as he imagined.

Maybe he would have had a chance if he used some of his fancy high tech weapons. Without them he wasn't on Ron's level, at least Ron on a good night.

About the seventh time I put Du down on his ass he lost his temper and charged at me for real. I put him down and out for that. Anger doesn't make you a better fighter, it only makes you sloppy.

Du was enough of a professional to apologize the next day. I'd given him the black eye he was sporting at the moment, and accepted. He then politely asked to be allowed to spar with me on a regular basis.

* * *

Wade's voice came over the Kimmuncator on my wrist, "You alone?"

"I'm helping Anne in the kitchen."

"Don't believe it," Anne called. "I'm helping her. She's actually a fine cook."

"This is big," Wade told me, "but doesn't have to be this minute. But you might want some privacy."

Not wanting to abandon ship I asked, "Okay to call you in an hour or so?"

"Fine."

Kim's brothers were in charge of clean up after dinner and I headed outside to an open area where I could see no one was around. When Wade's first words had been 'you alone?' I figured privacy was a priority.

I hit call and demanded, "Okay, what's up."

"Got a call for help. An unusual call for help. I wanted to talk with you about it first."

"What's to talk about?"

"The call was from Drakken."

"From Drakken? Don't you mean about Drakken?"

"No, Drakken called and asked for help."

"Hold on, my brain needs time to process this. Speak slowly. What the hell is going on?"

"Well... Drakken isn't too much of a threat on his own."

"Tell me about it."

"So he found a partner."

"Who'd be crazy enough to partner with Drakken?"

"Electronique."

"Electronique? Oh my God..." This was worst case scenario. Drakken is an ideas man, but often doesn't pay enough attention to details and his devices fail. Electronique pays attention to details. Drakken's creativity and Electronique's engineering meant serious threat. On top of that Electronique wanted my family dead. "Why'd Drakken call you?"

"Electronique even scares him. He feels like she's taking over. He wants to take over the world himself, not be chief flunky to the woman who takes over the world."

"I can see that." Something puzzled me, "Why did you ask for privacy in the call?"

"Wanted to sound you out without any witnesses. This is a bit peculiar, I mean, you worked for Drakken. You quit. He called for help. Ron might be able to handle Electronique... I've got an idea that... I think you're better than Ron, but I want your feelings."

"Mixed," I admitted after a pause. "Wanted to give him a plasma enema after I left. Now... He wasn't so bad. I won't see this as going after Drakken. This is strictly going after Electronique."

"Nobody is around?"

"No."

"Okay, I've got kind of mixed feelings too. Drakken called for help. He wants a real threat stopped. Kim, Ron, and I never went after someone who called for help before."

"I think I hear you saying you wouldn't mind if Drakken escaped."

"You didn't hear me saying that. You heard me hinting at that."

"Close enough, will Ron buy in to the plan?"

"I'm not sure."

"Look, I'm willing to let Drakken walk, but I'm liking the freedom I have now. I don't want Global Justice after me because I helped Drakken."

"I've got a small EMP generator that should knock out anything in a fifty meter radius. None of Electronique's devices will work – and there can't be any video of what happens."

"Of course she'll still have her own electrical power. You got rubber suits?"

"Covered. We just–"

"And I've got the solution."

* * *

"The most dangerous woman in the world?" Bonnie asked nervously. "You asked me along to fight the most dangerous woman in the world?"

"I'm number one. Or maybe Kim, after she heals. Electronique is top five, but she's my job. You have my back. Drakken is no fighter."

"But he's a super villain!"

"And none of his devices are going to work. Wade gave me a doohickey that will knock out everything... Leave your cell phone in the hover car. Any way, you can handle Drakken." I figured she couldn't. She was strictly there as window dressing. Drakken would escape. Bonnie could still claim hero creds for the mission.

For once I got the drop on Electronique. The electro-magnetic pulse knocked out all her gizmos. Her electrical power would have given her an edge, but the bulky rubber suit nullified that advantage.

Unfortunately the damn thing also slowed me down. She was good at hand-to-hand, not great, but certainly good. If I wasn't wearing the suit I could have knocked her out in ten seconds flat - if she didn't hit me with an electrical bolt in seven. Fight lasted several minutes, but I finally put her down and wrapped her up with electrical tape.

I figured Drakken had been given enough time to escape Bonnie and went looking for her.

Found her sitting on Drakken. He was face down on the floor, and she had his arms twisted up behind his back while he whimpered with pain.

"I DID IT! I DID IT! I BEAT A SUPER VILLAIN!"

I offered insincere congratulations, "Good job."

"Yeah, you told me I could do it! And I did! I'm only a brown belt, but I knocked him down!"

Okay, why didn't Wade tell me Bonnie was a brown belt? He's supposed to have all the answers. Drakken would have a pink belt, if they had anything that low.

"I'll find something to tie him up with," I lied and headed off in one direction. I was familiar enough with the usual lair layout to sneak around and cold-cock her from behind.

"Get the hell out of here," I ordered Drakken as I pulled the unconscious cheerleader off him.

"Thank you! Thank you! I never realized what a great team player you are! Will you come back and work for me? All is forgiven, Shego, I'll overlook your–"

"I told you, get the hell out of here. Don't make me hurt you."

Something in my tone of voice told him I was serious. He got the hell out of there.

"What happened?" Bonnie groaned as she came to.

"A henchman must have hit you from behind. Drakken's gone. You're still a hero. You did great! Now help me drag Electronique out to the hover car. Call the newspapers, tell them you kicked butt on a dangerous mission."

"I did, didn't I?"

"Damn straight."

"You didn't see who hit me, did you?"

"No," I lied. Maybe it wasn't a lie. I wasn't looking in a mirror at the time.

"It might have been more than one guy?"

"Drakken sometimes has a lot of henchmen. You might have faced the whole gang." I suspected what Bonnie's version of the fight was going to look like, but I felt a little bad about knocking her out... Just a little bad, but I'd still back up anything she wanted to claim.

"I'll call some television stations too... Um, Shego?"

"Yeah?"

"Can we get out of these rubber suits first? They won't look good in the pictures."

Bonnie Rockwaller is a woman with clear priorities.

* * *

Bringing in Electronique got me a federal pardon. Of course some states still had warrants for my arrest, but they maintained the status quo, at least for now. Looks bad to request extradition right after a Presidential pardon.

After the night I got Will Du drunk he limited himself to soda when I went out to a bar. I wouldn't have minded going by myself, and he didn't have to go to bars with me, but he regarded them as dens of iniquity and feared I had criminal connections there.

I've probably tried half the bars in Middleton at this point, still looking for one where I'd be comfortable. Some come closer than others.

This weekend was kind of a mid-level spot. Not a dump. Not at all pretentious. Du stuck around like glue. He was a shadow on my ass... Well, not literally on my ass, but I suspected he might have enjoyed it. He sat on the bar stool beside me and ordered Coke. "Greyhound," I told the bartender. "You got strawberry vodka?" He nodded. "Use that."

Part of me objects to what is supposed to be a flavorless liquor coming in fifty-seven different flavors, but the strawberry goes nice with the grapefruit juice.

I looked around the place as I sipped my drink. Music was from CDs, but the choices didn't seem too bad and a few couples were out on a minuscule dance floor.

Du tried to make small talk. "France dropped its charges against you."

"Global have anything to do with that?"

He hesitated. "No," he admitted.

This guy was honest to a fault. Here was a chance for him to try and pick up a couple points for Global Justice, and he was playing it straight. I couldn't decide if he was a fool for being so honest, or if this was part of Betty Director's plan – convince me I could trust anything they told me.

Du continued, "Their ministry of justice reviewed the evidence against you and decided it was insufficient for a conviction."

"Good. I was innocent of that one."

"You committed no crimes in France?"

"No, I didn't do the one they had me charged with. I was careful on the jobs I pulled there. Don't know what clumsy daughter-of-a-bitch robbed that bank. They'd seen me in Paris and figured it must have been me, but that one wasn't mine."

He decided it was better not to ask me what crimes I might have committed in France and changed the subject. "Germany will probably... I'm uncertain what the technical terminology is for–"

"Then give it to me in plain English."

"If you go to Germany you face arrest, but they don't plan to seek extradition, at least at the moment. Doctor Director believes there is a very good chance she could obtain a pardon for you, if you agreed to work for Global Justice."

I shrugged, "Don't plan to visit Germany anyway. Of course nothing is changed with Italy."

"No."

"Italians are pricks. You know that."

"Global Justice is an agency of the United Nations. It is–"

"That's the truth, but your job description doesn't allow you to call a spade a spade. They like trying Americans, even if there isn't a gnat's ass worth of evidence. Are they calling for my head?"

"Curiously, not at the moment."

I grunted, "Their so-called justice ministry is probably too busy looking for loopholes to allow the Mafia Dons to stay free and turning a blind eye to sex-abuse cover-ups by Vatican cardinals."

Du was sputtering some kind of lame protest when a familiar face caught my eye at the back of the room. I wandered over to check it out.

Four guys sat in the booth. "You're out of uniform," I told Hobble.

"I'm off-duty."

"That hasn't stopped you before." He reddened slightly. I guessed it was more of a blush than red with anger – these were probably other off-duty cops having a drink after their shift was over. "You owe me a dance; get your butt out of the booth." That should embarrass him even more. He either danced with a suspected felon or he got called queer for turning down a dance with a pretty woman.

He slid out of the booth and followed me to the little dance floor.

"I got you whipped," I taunted and put my arms around him.

"Like hell," he retorted, putting his arms around me as we picked up the rhythm of the music. "Keep your friends close and your enemies closer."

He danced better than I expected. I figured he'd make a fool of himself out here, but he did fine. And without the body armor I couldn't accuse him of looking fat. I glanced over at his buddies. Two of them were staring with envy. Glanced at Du. He was doing something with his phone. Probably data entry for a report on suspicious activity. Snapped a picture. Definitely a report.

"Global Justice has you down as a suspected accomplice," I warned Hobble.

He ignored my words.

No real break between songs and we stayed on the floor for a second song, and a third.

"You dance a hell of a lot better than I expected," I admitted.

"Give the credit to my ex."

"How long were you married?"

"Ex-fiancée. Started trying to change me before the wedding. I didn't mind the dance lessons and a couple other things. I drew the line when she told me to quit being a cop."

One of his buddies came over as the third song was ending. He probably wanted to cut in, but I excused myself. "Got to get back to the old ball and chain," and returned to the bar stool, my greyhound, and Will Du.

* * *

It's been a couple months since Kim's leg was broken. Next time they took off the plaster cast she might be put in a walking cast.

And her continued silence was driving me crazy. I needed answers, but I wanted to talk with her alone. I've never liked witnesses. Her mom and dad were at work, and her brothers were... Who cares? Soccer practice or mixing up explosives. I found her doing homework. "Your brothers be home soon?"

"Nope. You want to see them?"

"No, I wanted a private conversation."

"What about?"

"You're driving me crazy, Pumpkin."

"What do you mean."

"I mean I've never heard you tell anyone what really happened – how your leg got broke. It was my fault and–"

"No it wasn't!"

"Yes it was! I had Ron moping around forever blaming himself. I knew damn well he had nothing to do with it. You were in the clear. You got your leg busted saving my ass. and what I want to know is why?"

"I'm still not sure I understand."

"Why haven't you told anyone? You're letting people say I saved you. You and I both know damn well I didn't save you, I'm the reason you broke your leg. Your mom and dad let me stay 'cause they think I helped you. I expected them to toss me out on my ass when they learned the truth. But you've kept your mouth shut and never told them – or anyone as far as I know. And I want to know why."

"What is truth?" Kim sighed.

"Don't give me the damn philosophical crap. I want to know why Kim Possible isn't telling anyone how her leg got busted."

Princess said nothing, just stared off vacantly into space.

"I'm waiting," I reminded her.

"Well... I'd like to think I don't want to know what people would say."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, I figure there are two responses. They might either say, 'Oh, that is so noble of you, risking your own life to save an enemy,' or they might say, 'That was really stupid; risking your own life to save an enemy'. I don't want praise. And I don't want to be called stupid. I did it without thinking, it was instinct to try and save you."

I grunted an acknowledgement to her explanation, then had a thought, "Hey, you said you'd like to think it was because you don't want to know what people will say. That implies you might have other reasons."

Another pause before I got an answer. "I wasn't thinking... I... I've never been hurt before in a rescue–"

"You've been damn lucky."

"I see that now. I didn't think I'd get hurt. And... And I don't know what I'd have done if I thought I was going to get my leg broken. Would I have still tried to save you, or would I have just run? Does that make me a terrible person?"

I stared at her for a few seconds, and then started laughing. She looked surprised. She looked even more surprised when I gave her a hug. "My opinion? You're an idiot. You shouldn't have got me out of the way. I'm better than you and–"

"No you're not! I beat you all the time!"

"Well, you're in no condition to try and prove it now. You shouldn't have done it."

"You'd have tried to save me if the situation had been reversed."

"No I wouldn't."

"And when you've saved me from a pirate's ghost, alien, Electronique, and... I think there were a couple other times? Hey, maybe I have been lucky."

"Look, I didn't get hurt saving you those times. And those were all times you were in trouble from someone else. I'm going to get the credit for whipping your scrawny ass, Pumpkin, and I'm not going to let someone else take the credit."

"But you could have been hurt those times. The point is, you've saved me. You wouldn't have let me get hurt in an accident. And you even brought me home."

"That was just–"

"I know. Your Code of the West. Hey, if you want to whip my scrawny ass... I do not have a scrawny ass!"

"No," I admitted. "You got a hot booty."

"Thanks for noticing," Kim giggled. "When I was little my dad called me 'bubble butt'."

"Which scarred you for life," I groaned in sympathy.

"Tell me about it. The point I; you won't attack me when they get the cast off. You have to wait until I'm back in shape to fight me if you want to beat me fair."

I shrugged, "Guess so."

"Of course, once I'm back in shape you'll never beat me."

"If you weren't in that cast I'd punch you," I growled. She just laughed at me.

The conversation shifted to other topics for a few minutes. At one point she asked, "You ever been in a cast?"

"High school play count?"

She stuck out her tongue at me, "No. Plaster cast, you know what I mean."

"Nope. Why?"

"My leg itches something fierce! Kids at school who've had broken arms or legs warned me about wanting to scratch, and not being able to, and how it almost drove them crazy. I figured with my self-control... But they were right."

"Bad?"

"Awful. I was hoping you had some idea that could help."

I shook my head. "No idea. I might try getting drunk, if it was me, but that's not an option for–"

"I'll try it."

"No."

"C'mon, I've never been drunk. I should know what it's like before I leave for college this fall."

"No bar in Middleton would serve you... And your mom would skin me alive."

"We don't have to go to a bar. Mom and Dad are going to a... a meeting this Friday and–"

"What kind of a meeting?"

"None of your... You'll see them leave... Country line dancing. Don't tell anyone! I've kept it hidden from the other kids at school. The tweebs are usually gone. You can bring in something and monitor me so nothing goes wrong. And I get a good night's sleep."

"Maybe. Probably get the sleep anyway. And a hell of a headache in the morning if you get drunk."

"It'll be a learning experience!"

"It's a mistake."

"Did that ever stop you when you were working for Drakken?"

I thought for a minute. "Point taken. You want to get blitzed on beer or hard stuff?"


	7. An Eye on Temptation

Boilerplate Disclaimer: The various characters from the Kim Possible series are all owned by Disney. Any and all registered trade names property of their respective owners. Cheap shots at celebrities constitute fair usage.

 **An Eye on Temptation**

 _ **The code of the west  
Keep an eye on temptation, recite the quotation  
That says when Satan calls your name it doesn't matter  
How you played the game 'cause all he cares about is  
Did you win?**_

Rescuing an inexperienced kayaker from white water a few miles below Lake Middleton left Shego soaked. The water, fed by melting snow, was frigid and despite her unnatural body heat the green woman shivered with cold. Officer Hobble took off his jacket and wrapped it around her shoulders.

"T-t-thanks," Shego told him, teeth chattering.

"Don't mention it. Looks bad if you die of hypothermia on my watch."

"I'll get you a cup of hot coffee," Will Du offered.

"C-can you put something in it?"

"Cream? Sugar?"

"I was thinking brandy. But better not. Sugar – two packets, and not that artificial crap."

As soon as Du was out of earshot Hobble suggested, "Think you could lose your tail this Friday and go dancing with me?"

Shego raised one eyebrow, "You and me? Tell me you're joking."

"Hey, I'm not trying to get in your pants or anything, I–"

"You queer?"

"I'm not homosexual. Look, I enjoyed dancing the other night. I thought maybe, if you did too, that..." His tone got stiff. "Forget it."

"Actually, it was fun. Ask me for another night. I'm helping Possible with some college prep this Friday night."

"You could put it off 'til Saturday."

"I could, but Pumpkin insists this Friday night."

Hobble grunted, in a way that suggested he interpreted her turn down as a, 'I'm planning to have a headache' or 'Sorry, I'm washing my hair that night.'

"Hey, I meant it," she insisted. "Ask me for another night."

"Really?"

"Yeah, really. I'll deny it if you ask me to repeat it in front of a witness, but I enjoyed dancing with you. Kim did ask me to help her with something this Friday."

Whenever she left the house Shego purchased small quantities of beer and liquor and smuggled them into her room. By Friday the stockpile was large enough to insure Kim experienced a taste of college life.

* * *

"The goal tonight," the green woman explained, "is to get drunk, but to stop before you worship the porcelain goddess."

"Excuse me?"

"Before you stick your head in the toilet and heave your guts out. Drunk people do stupid things – sure you want to go through with this?"

"That's why I want to know what it feels like, so I can stop before that point."

"I should make you sign a confession, admitting this was your idea. If your mom catches us she'll–"

"She and Dad won't get home until around one. The Tweebs got permission to spend the night with a couple friends playing video games. What have you got in those sacks?"

"We start with a staple of college life, cheap beer. This stuff is crap but try a can." Shego planned on drinking with Kim, for a better sense of how much the redhead consumed. Shego finished her can of swill, but Kim couldn't choke down a third of her can. Shego poured the rest down the sink. When Kim was equally disgusted by the bottle of hand-crafted stout from a micro-brewery Shego did not let it go to waste, finishing Kim's after finishing her own.

"Hey, I like this," Kim commented after a sip of hard lemonade.

"Good," Shego commented and took a long pull from hers. "It's a sissy drink, but don't have more than two and you'll stay in control."

"Tonight I'm trying to see what it's like to get drunk, so I can forget the itching – remember?"

"Really should have made you sign a confession ahead of time. Do not, and I repeat, do _not_ drink anything, I repeat _anything_ , at a garbage can party."

"Garbage can party?"

"Someone buys a new plastic garbage can and puts in some sliced fruit and a couple cans of fruit punch. Then everyone who comes to the party brings a bottle of hard liquor and pours it into the garbage can. A – It is way too easy for someone to drug the stuff. B – Even if everyone is honest you'll end up drunk and on the floor in no time."

"Ick."

"Right. General rule of thumb... Pace yourself, don't drink too much too fast. Eating some food helps too – don't drink on an empty stomach. And drink plenty of water too – helps lessen the hangover the next day."

Shego had purchased a wide range of mini, one ounce, bottles to give Kim exposure to a variety of liquors. Other than the Kahlua, which Kim could tolerate, a flavored schnapps, and a shot of whiskey Kim tossed back to learn that tossing back a shot of whiskey isn't a good idea, Kim didn't finish any of the mini-bottles Shego brought in, so Shego finished them herself - along with the matching bottle purchased for herself.

Rum chata did not come in minis, but Shego had purchased one bottle to share.

"Thish ish good too," Kim said, "I... getting drunk. Bed's moving. Give me shmore."

"Grade schtuff," Shego slurred, spilling only a little as she refilled Kim's glass and her own. "You hol' liq- *hic* liquor well." Having felt confident she wouldn't get drunk she'd not paid attention to the fact she was drinking two or three times more than Kim consumed.

Shego's memory of the evening had ended before that compliment. She was awakened the next morning by Anne Possible shaking her shoulder. After a moment of groggy complaining Shego opened her eyes and was startled to realize she was in Kim's bed.

"Where's Kim?"

"The guest room. After you passed out in here she went to your room. May I assume that you had intended to stay sober enough to pick up all these bottles and cans?"

"Yeah... Little softer please, my head..."

"I fear I'm out of sympathy this morning."

"Are you throwing me out?"

"No. Kim says this was her idea. You should have talked her out of it."

"I tried..."

Anne glared at her.

"Well, I did try! A little... She says she wanted to get drunk before college, to know what it's... So I figured... I mean, adult supervision and–"

"And you count yourself as an adult?"

"I bought this stuff legal."

"We can debate if that qualifies you as an adult – although I can't ground you the way Kim is grounded for the next month, but Kim figured out her own way to punish you – punish the both of you actually."

"I don't understand."

Anne looked around the room. "Apparently you were able to keep yours down. Kim was not so lucky, and she didn't make it to the bathroom."

"My bed?"

"No, just the floor. I would suggest opening a window while the two of you are cleaning to help air things out."

* * *

While scrubbing the floor of the guest bedroom Shego decided it might be time to start looking around for a place of her own.

"In Middleton?" Jim asked when the green woman mentioned the idea at dinner.

"Yeah," Shego admitted. "If I'm not in jail... I seem to be fairly safe as long as I play nice here. And Kim'll be out of the cast in a few weeks."

"But she won't be ready for missions," Anne reminded her.

"Mom!" protested Kim.

"You won't be ready. And I'm rather hoping Shego will help with your physical therapy."

"I'll help, if I'm in Middleton," promised Shego. "I owe you."

* * *

Hobble renewed his request to go out dancing with Shego, promising he'd found a spot with swing music. Du went along as chaperone, to the disgust of the other two. The food offerings were terrible – mostly frozen items bought in bulk and reheated in a microwave – and the bar average at best. But the small combo was live and decent, the floor good-sized, and the patrons an interesting mix from young hipsters to those who could remember Glen Miller broadcasts.

The Global Justice agent mostly sat in the booth while Hobble and Shego were on the dance floor. A couple women asked him on the dance floor, but after seeing how poorly he danced invitations ceased.

"You really could stay at your hotel and watch television," Shego groused when she and Hobble joined Du in the booth during a break from dancing.

"This is more entertaining," he replied, taking a sip from his ginger ale. "Of course, there is a very easy way to be rid of me."

"And that is?" Hobble asked.

"If she applies to work for Global Justice we will extend legal aid. We might be able to obtain pardons for her. And, of course, were she to become a Global Justice employee there would be no need for my continued presence."

"I hear might, and I hear you telling her what to do," the policeman grunted.

"Not me. I would not–"

"Your boss, whatever," Hobble interrupted, "it sucks. I don't like people telling other people how to live their lives."

"Of course, should a person choose to live her life by breaking the law she must expect the consequences of her actions. I think the opportunity for freedom Global Justice proffers should be accepted."

"And I agree with the big stiff here, the offer sucks," Shego voted. "I seem to be doing fine–"

"At the moment!"

"I'll take my chances."

Du went back to nursing his ginger ale and the other two returned to the dance floor.

Late in the evening Du went onto the dance floor to tap Shego on the shoulder, "Problems, I need to take you into custody."

"What!" Green plasma flared around her hands.

"Calm down," Hobble warned her. "What's going on?" he demanded of the agent. "And let's not cause a scene here."

They moved outside to the parking lot. "Look, this isn't my idea," Agent Du began. "Italy is sending over a prosecutor, hard copies of the charges against you, and a request for extradition. His plane just–"

"Could she try and cut a deal with Global Justice now?" Hobble asked.

"I won't," insisted Shego.

"Too late. I just received orders to take her into custody." He glanced nervously at Shego, "I, uh, know I can't actually stop you if you resist. Don't hurt me too badly, please."

"I promised the big lug here not to raise a fuss in Middleton," answered Shego. "I'll go quietly."

"That promise was just for the police trying to arrest you," Hobble told her. "If you want to slug him–"

Shego gently punched Hobble in the stomach. "I gave my word. It's the Code of the West." She looked at Du. "So, what now?"

"Middleton Police Department." He looked at his watch, "I'm off the clock. You were right about the Italians. Some crisis in the government coalition, they're hoping a media circus about your arrest and trial will divert..." Remembering that, despite being off-duty, he was still a Global Justice agent he stopped. "You didn't hear me say that."

"Not a word," Shego agreed.

Hobble drove the other two to the Middleton Police headquarters. "What's going to happen?"

"Assuming their prosecutor makes his connecting flight in LaGuardia he'll arrive at Middleton airport tomorrow at eleven a.m. He'll grab a taxi and bring his documentation to city hall and formally request extradition." He suggested to Shego, "You could try fighting extradition, it–"

"What's the point? I'd be in jail here for the fight, right? Better just go and bust out of an Italian prison."

The Italian prosecutor made his connecting flight in LaGuardia and found a taxi outside the airport for the ride to city hall. As he entered Middleton City Hall he was grabbed from behind, blindfolded, dragged into a janitor's closet and robbed of his briefcase.

Fifteen minutes later a man walking down the hall, to apply for a fishing license, heard a thumping sound and opened the door to discover the trussed up prosecutor.

The Italian media produced lurid stories of the dangers of America. The prosecutor called for Shego to be charged with the crime, but since she had been in jail at the time of the assault the police ignored the suggestion. And since the warrants for Shego's arrests were gone, along with the request for extradition, the extradition became moot. A Middleton judge, in an annoying paternalistic tone referred to Shego as 'one of our Middleton girls' as he ordered her freed.

Under the circumstances Shego didn't mind. She got her smart phone back and was doing something with it when Will Du found her. "What are your plans now?" he demanded.

"Airline tickets."

"May I remind you that you are still a wanted person. You can not flee from Global Justice! We will–"

"Put a sock in it, Du," Shego warned, turning off her phone. "Just booked a flight to Italy."

"Italy? But their extradition request was lost."

"Yeah? Well screw that. They'll send over new copies. Sometimes the best defense is a good offense."

"Well, you are certainly offensive enough."

"I warned you, shut up." She looked at her watch. "Cutting it close, I need to be at the airport in an hour."

"I need to pack," Du exclaimed.

"You? Why?"

"I'm going with... You didn't make a reservation for me?"

Shego shook her head no, "Just for me. See you, I do need to pack."

She ran for the door as Will dug out he own phone and frantically began trying to book a flight to Italy.

* * *

The Carabinieri were waiting for Shego when she and Du and landed in Italy. Shego wasn't surprised. The Carabinieri however were surprised when she told them she needed to talk with the head of the Ministry of Justice, and without – she jerked her head in the direction of Du – Global Justice hearing what she had to say.

"Signorina, that is not possible."

"You had better make it possible. If my testimony gets out at the trial, if it makes the media, if–"

"Media?"

"Newspapers, television, radio... Throw in the internet too. If it goes out on the media, or if Global Justice learns about–"

"What's this about Global Justice?" Du demanded.

"The Italians don't want you to know," the green woman assured him.

"I demand to know what information you have withheld from Global Justice!"

Du's protests that Shego NOT be allowed to speak to the Ministry of Justice – along with Shego's threat to mention things to jailers should she have to spend the night in prison got her taken to the headquarters of the Ministry. Du took a taxi, and insisted he accompany Shego to any meeting with any official. The woman at the receptionist desk pretended she could not understand English.

Shego refused to talk with men in the first three offices where she was sent. "You don't have the authority to handle the information I have. And, if it gets out and your boss learns you heard the information, he's going to figure out you were the source of the leak. Trust me, you are much better off sending me to your superior."

The man at the top didn't want to talk with her without guards in the room.

"Trust me," Shego warned, "you don't want guards in the room, and if you have any kind of recording devices – turn them off."

"There is nothing you could say that justifies–"

"Why don't you try it my way for a minute? I'll tell you what I'm worried about. If it doesn't worry you, call the guards back in. But you may decide it should just stay between the two of us."

"Fine," the irritated, and curious, bureaucrat grumbled and dismissed the guards. Before he could question Shego the intercom on his desk warned that an angry Global Justice agent was demanding he be allowed to sit in at the interview. "Get rid of him!" He turned to Shego, who had taken a seat in one of the leather chairs. "What is so important?"

"I was just worried that, if I go to trial, some of the other crimes I did in Italy might come out."

"Why should I care? You should be prosecuted to the full extent of the law!"

Shego shrugged, "Well, I do a little espionage too, and I was hired by Giuliano Amato to do a bit of spying."

"Why should I care?"

"Well... I was hired to find the dirty laundry on Silvio Berlusconi and–"

"Dirty laundry?"

"Oh, things Berlusconi had done that weren't entirely legal, ethical, or moral. Things that could put his whole political party into... Say, he appointed you didn't he?"

"That doesn't matter. Berlusconi's... uh... errors in judgement are in the open."

"Oh, some of them are," Shego agreed. "But I've got some really, really nasty stuff. Maybe even get him sent to prison. But if you really aren't worried I can go talk with Global Justice. I'd like to get their opinion."

"Global Justice?"

"Yeah, the agent accompanying me."

The Minister of Justice swallowed, hard. "But you have, uh, said nothing to Global Justice about your inquiries on behalf of Amato?"

"Unlike certain Prime Ministers I maintain ethical standards. I will never willingly betray a client. Of course, if I go to trial, there is always the chance the information will come out. Or I might get bored in jail and mention it to other prisoners, or the jailers, or the press... There must be some newspaper in Italy Berlusconi doesn't own. I'm sure none of his would publish what I found out about him."

The Minister drummed his fingers on his desk, wondering if world opinion of Berlusconi could go any lower. "You place me in a very awkward position. I can hardly release you; you are charged with serious crimes. But the government coalition is... Destabilizing the government would not be good for my nation."

"I agree," Shego said sympathetically. "It is a very uncomfortable position for you. Do you know the American phrase 'plea bargain'?"

"If you would refresh my memory."

"American courts will sometimes avoid the expenses of a trial by dropping some charges, with the accused pleading guilty to lesser crimes. You could reduce the charges against me, I admit I'm guilty, pay the fine and–"

"A fine! You should be put in prison!"

"I told you, I might get bored in prison and need someone to talk to – maybe even the press. Tell you what, why don't I go find that Global Justice agent and spend the day sight-seeing? Your city is so beautiful! And your Italian coffee? The best in the world! I'll be back tomorrow at one in the afternoon and see what you've decided."

"Must you find the Global Justice agent?"

"Afraid so. He goes with me everywhere."

"And when he asks about our meeting?"

"I threw myself on my knees and begged for mercy – admitting my sins and pleading for forgiveness."

"And he would believe that?"

"No. But I still prefer to not betray a client, even one out of office."

As the door closed behind her Shego hoped the bluff worked. Should the former prime minister be asked if he had hired her he would deny it – since he hadn't. But if he had hired her to find dirt on a rival he would deny knowing her, so his denial would be ignored.

Two days later Shego stood before a judge in the morning and pled guilty to a number of small charges. To please the prosecutor, who did not really understand what was going on, several of the small crimes on the list had actually been committed by his nephew. Having the American plead guilty to them should stop the police from further investigation. To keep the American woman from protesting the prosecutor pointed the judge to the fact she had willing come to Italy and admitted her crimes and requested a large dose of leniency coupled with a very minimal fine. The judge had received a similar 'suggestion' from the Ministry of Justice.

After paying the fines she boarded a plane back to the States in the afternoon, no longer facing charges in Italy.

* * *

A couple weeks later Shego's mission ended in time to pick up Ron and Kim after school. After leaving Ron at his home the two barely noticed the unfamiliar car parked outside. Unfamiliar cars were not unusual; they usually suggested an unfamiliar face would be present when they entered the house.

The faces inside were entirely familiar to Shego. Kim even recognized one of the two.

"Hego?"

The big man grinned and nodded.

"Oh, that's right, you've met my daughter," Anne commented. "Kim, I'd like you to meet Mrs. Samantha O'Connor, Georgia's mother."

"My name is not Georgia, it's Shego the green woman insisted."

"Georgia?" asked Kim.

"Well, not her real name," Anne answered. "Sam was explaining–"

"Fine my name is Georgia O'Connor! Can we drop it? What's this big idiot doing here."

"I asked your brother to drive. Besides, he wanted to see his little sister too."

"Go back," demanded Kim. "Is her real name Georgia or not?"

"Yes!"

"No. She was named for her grandmother, a Polish orphan who married an American GI after the war and–"

"Mother! Kim is not interested in our family history!"

"But she asked." Mrs. O'Connor looked back at Kim. "She was a remarkable woman. They taught her to sew at the orphanage. She says she always left pins in the uniforms they were forced to make for the Nazis. Well–"

Shego cut in, "And when she got to America she worked as a tailor and worked her way up until she owned the shop. Period. End of story. So how did you learn where I was?"

"Oh, you're in all the newspapers, Dear. I know how much your privacy means to–"

"Can we go back?" Kim repeated. "Shego's real, birth certificate name?"

"Hortenspa," Hego told her.

"Hortenspa?" the redhead said in disbelief.

"It's a good Polish name," Samantha assured Kim.

"Kids put me through hell over it!" protested Shego.

"So, we checked a book of names and their meanings. Hortenspa and Georgia both mean farmer, so Georgia became the name she used."

"Well I'm Shego now!"

"Your mother wrote me a letter," explained Anne, "and we've exchanged emails. Now that it looks like you're serious about staying out of trouble I suggested she come visit for a few days and–"

"Days? With Hego too?"

"Maybe he can help you with a mission."

"Maybe I can beat my head against a cement wall and knock myself out for a few days," muttered Shego.

"Not until after supper. We're all going to the House of Dead Cow tonight for steaks."

After dinner the Possibles and O'Connor's returned to the Possible home for conversation. While no deliberate effort was made to embarrass anyone the stories parents tell invariably embarrass their offspring. Kim, Hego, and Shego came in for equal shares of stories they wish had not been retold, but Shego simply wanted to get away from the conversation. To her great relief the doorbell rang, "I'll get it!"

Officer Hobble stood in the doorway, "Good, I wanted to see you. Everything okay?"

"No... But I'm not going to ask you to arrest my mother."

"Huh?"

"Never mind. So, why you here?"

"I saw a strange car in the drive and–"

"It's not strange. It's a rental."

"Well, it has out-of-state plates."

"You ring the bell on every house with an out-of-state car?"

"Well, there're still countries where you're wanted. I was worried there might be someone else here to arrest you."

"A job you're hoping to do yourself?"

"Chief of Police is now in your corner. Told all officers to regard you like any other citizen. Of course, I don't believe it."

"Oh?"

"You admitted it yourself. You're still evil. I'm keeping an eye on you and plan to stay close."

"How close?"

"You know, the friends close and enemies closer thing. I was hoping to get a little closer tomorrow night. New combo at the swing place. I hear they're good – we can stay 'til closing."

"What time?"

"Does it close? So that's a yes?"

"No, it's 'what time?' as in when are you suggesting you pick me up?"

"You got a better offer from that Du guy?"

"Just answer the damn question."

"Six-thirty... Maybe we could stop for dinner somewhere on the way?"

"Sounds good. Now get the hell out of here before I take you in and introduce you to my mother."

* * *

 **Preview**

Next chapter someone tells Shego, "Welcome to Global Justice, Mrs. Du."

Who says it? Why? Can you trust the sentence? Leave your guess in a review.


	8. What You Know You Don't Tell

Boilerplate Disclaimer: The various characters from the Kim Possible series are all owned by Disney. Any and all registered trade names property of their respective owners. Cheap shots at celebrities constitute fair usage.

[Shego's POV]

 **What You Know You Don't Tell**

 _ **It's the code of the west when the boys talk of women  
The code of the west what you know you don't tell  
The code of the west a man soaps his own saddle  
Brands his own cattle and some of his neighbor's as well**_

I spent much of an afternoon talking with a Middleton lawyer. He doesn't do international, but offered good ideas. There were still warrants out for me in Canada, Germany, and Moldova – along with a couple states with criminal charges pending. I also faced the potential for a bunch of civil suits. The government can be generous and pardon a criminal complaint if it wants. Civil suits are another matter, but at least they can't put you in jail if you lose a civil suit.

He advised me to try and settle the civil suits out of court – it'd save me a bundle on lawyer's fees. Based on what he was charging an hour for consultation I believed him. He recommended a German lawyer, said she was good and could probably handle Germany and Moldova too... I wondered if she'd give him a kickback for the referral... What was that movie, the one with the line about, 'A lawyer with a briefcase can steal more than a man with a gun.'?

Still, I felt good when I got to the Possibles, wanting to make real plans for the future. I'd only been half-way looking for a place of my own, worried that everything would fall apart and I'd have to decide on flight or prison. (Yeah, like I'd actually consider prison. But I'm getting tried of flight.) Now I'm thinking maybe I can lick this. (I know it's dangerous to think like that. It isn't pride that goeth before a fall, it's optimism.)

* * *

This was the day Pumpkin was supposed to have the cast off. It was off, but she was wearing slacks and did not look happy.

"My leg looks awful!"

Her mother reminded her, "I warned you. Muscles shrink when they aren't used." She looked at me, "You've been an honorary member of the family for months. You're not pulling your weight."

"What?" I protested.

She handed me several sheets of paper, "Directions from the physical therapist at the hospital. Take Kim to the gym tonight after supper. She will want to overdo things. Make sure she doesn't." She turned to her daughter, "Do anything Shego tells you. Don't do anything she doesn't tell you to. She's in charge."

"Mom!" Kim protested.

I grinned, "I get to tell her what to do?"

"As long as you follow the directions. Too much too soon is not good for her. You have my permission to do whatever it takes to keep her on track."

Kim repeated her protest, "Mom!"

"I get to tell Princess what to do? Really?"

"Of course."

"Dr. Possible, if your husband weren't here I'd kiss you. This is the greatest Christmas gift ever! And it's only May."

"Mom!"

"You want to walk across the stage at graduation?" her mother asked.

"Yes!"

"Then listen to Shego."

The possibility I'd be helping with Kim's physical therapy had been talked about for a month or so. There had been too much chance of arrest for me to take it seriously, but I hadn't imagined I'd be handed the blank check I'd just been given.

* * *

At the gym I consulted the directions. "Just a little treadmill tonight. Get on this one." I got on the machine next to Kim and leaned over to her machine to set it. "Speed – two and a half miles an hour... No incline. Time – thirty minutes."

The countdown timer on her machine went down from five seconds to start, and I blew the whistle I had around my neck, "Move your feet, maggot!"

That brought a real trainer over. He was about to chew me out for the whistle, then noticed Kim. "Not so loud, okay?" he requested.

"Two and a half?" Kim protested – noticing I'd set my machine for five miles an hour and an incline of twelve.

"You vill obey orders!" I barked. "Those are the directions! I'm in debt to a brain surgeon... You've heard of loan sharks? They're nothing! They can beat you up. A brain surgeon can repossess your brain."

Pumpkin smiled, "On you it would be an improvement."

Okay, I'd left myself wide open for that one. "I set you up for that line," I lied. "You're not going to be in shape to fight me for months, so I let you have an easy win."

"Before I leave for college," Kim promised, "I'll beat you."

Princess fell silent after a couple minutes, and I concentrated on my own pace. Five miles an hour is a slow jog, but I was doing it as a fast walk – easier on the knees. After about ten minutes I glanced over, Kim was sweating harder than I was.

"Still think that's too slow?"

"Half an hour?" she gasped, "Really?"

"Doctor's orders. Your mom was worried you'd try and overdo. Want me to tell her you're a wuss and couldn't do it?"

"I can do it," she panted, "just wanted to make sure nothing cruel and unusual."

"You did great – for a first session," I told her as we left the gym. And because she'd been feeling down I stopped for ice cream.

* * *

Kim continued making progress so a week later I offered, "Want to come dancing tomorrow night?"

"Plans with Ron... And you just want me to go along and keep Will Du distracted, don't you?"

"You could try and teach him something… I almost feel sorry for the moop," I explained.

"He's not a bad guy, he's just so just so full of himself he doesn't have room for a real personality."

"I think it's something else he's full of, but point taken."

"So... You and Hobble seem to be hitting it off."

"If by hitting it off you mean we both enjoy dancing, yeah."

"Sure you're not interested in him?"

"Kim, he's a policeman. I've got no interest in a cop."

"C'mon, you wouldn't be going out with him if you didn't like him."

"I like to dance."

"Well, I bet he's interested in you."

"I'm pretty sure his mental image of me is behind bars. He likes to dance too."

I joked about it with Hobble while we were out that night. I emphasized the part about who needs a cop. He didn't seem amused by it the way he should. "What's the matter?"

"The way you're criticizing the force."

I remembered the stunt his ex-fiancée pulled. "Hell no," I assured him. "I'm not criticizing the force."

He raised a skeptical eyebrow.

"Okay... But I'm a crook. And I make fun of everybody."

"True," he agreed.

"Hey, And criticizing the police isn't saying you shouldn't be one. You're a cop. It's who you are. Do I give you more bullshit than other suspects?"

"Yeah, but I'm trained to put up with a lot of crap."

"See? I'm not asking you to change. Bet you'd like me to change."

"I don't know... I'd need to figure out what you are first. I'm clueless."

"At least you're honest enough to admit it," I laughed.

* * *

Mid-May, and Princess was making great progress... Which still means a lot slower than she wanted. I'd like to be at the Middleton High auditorium to see her graduate, and I don't want legal issues to stand in the way. I talked with Wade, and he had nothing definite coming up for me...

Did I mention, Wade and I are talking about a partnership? With Kim away at college, and not back at a hundred percent, he needs someone for missions. And we complement each other – his skill set tends to be mental while mine tends to be physical. He needs someone with muscle and I need someone with tech savvy. Still not positive it will work out, but we're talking. And I'm making it clear that while there may be some charity work this is supposed to be a paying proposition.

But there won't be any work or firm plans until I get my legal status straightened out. So I crossed my fingers I wouldn't be needed in the States and I headed to Germany to meet my lawyer there.

Du, of course, went with me. "I hope there will be no repeat of whatever it was you did in Italy," he told me as we flew over the Atlantic.

"Of course not," I promised. Damn German efficiency. A whiff of scandal and they'll investigate for hard evidence. I would not be able to bluff my way out of the charges in Germany.

I loved Beate, my lawyer, who really took me under her wing. Turns out that, in the Cold War days, her East German father had married a Polish woman. When she saw my real first name she told me I should visit Poland some day and try to find any relatives.

To be honest, I'm not sure what happened in Germany. I smiled and agreed to things. I signed things... For once I was damned grateful to have Will Du along. The man looked over everything and asked intelligent questions. I didn't sign anything until he had given it the okay. All of his help left me in a slightly confused state. For the last four months he's mostly been an annoyance. He doesn't try to be annoying. He can't help it, it's just this talent he has. And now I felt like I owed him one, and maybe Global Justice for assigning him as my watchdog.

Took him out for a beer with my lawyer and her husband when Germany was over. I'm still not completely sure what had happened, but Du assured me it was the best deal I could have possibly received - short of a pardon, of course. As near as I could tell I was on something like probation for the next ten years, and might get the record expunged or something if I kept my nose clean... Germans seem to like really clean noses, so maybe I should just avoid the place for a decade or so. Oh, and fines, of course. And lawyer bills.

"Moldova will be much the easier for you," Beate promised.

"She could use a little easier," Du commented. "The German courts are very efficient."

"Danke." She slid a piece of paper across the table to me. "Go to this address in Chișinău."

"Do I need a lawyer there?" I asked nervously. The bank accounts Global Justice knew about were getting a bit low, and I preferred to keep the others secret if possible.

"No lawyer. If they keep their promise you will not pay fine. Will go very good for you."

Du looked skeptical. "And if they do not keep their promise?"

She shrugged, "Call me. I think will go very good."

Du gave me a little background on Moldova that I'd missed years ago on my fast illegal in and out of the place. Despite the fact most Americans thought it a fictional country from the Rocky and Bullwinkle cartoons it has a hell of history. (But then about half the people in America can't find France on the map.) Every movement of people through Eastern Europe for the last two thousand years has gone smack dab through the place, and left it a patchwork of ethnic divisions.

"And they all get along?" I asked optimistically.

"No. It doesn't meet UN standards for non-discrimination against ethnic minorities, but not many places do. It's better than a lot. I think the economy is the main problem facing the nation."

The next day in Chișinău I double-checked the address on the paper I'd been given. This wasn't a justice building. It was the ministry of tourism.

"A mistake," Du suggested. "Probably the wrong street number."

"Obviously," I agreed and pushed the door open. Maybe someone could tell me where to go. "Excuse me, anyone speak English?"

"Yes... You are Shego?"

"You're expecting me?"

She nodded. "I am so sorry. We did not yet expect you so soon. The minister is at lunch. May you wait?"

I looked over at Du, who looked as clueless as I felt. "Sure, I'm happy to wait."

"And this man you are with?"

"Will Du. He's an agent of Global Justice. He goes everywhere with me."

"We are pleased to have you in our country," she told him and ushered us into what appeared to be a conference room. "I will telephone minister and tell him of your arrival."

I could not fucking believe it. My sentence? Four days of community service – visiting museums and archaeological sites, eating different foods, and drinking great wine – while being filmed for tourism commercials. And the ministry of tourism paid for it all!

"If it weren't land-locked they'd have probably had you visiting a beach in a bikini," Du laughed. "Pour me a little more of that, will you please?"

"Sure." I looked at how much was left in the bottle and tried to give him half. I wanted the rest for me. "I don't usually do bikinis, but I might have." I looked in the direction of the camera man and lifted my glass as a salute, "Your nation is wonderful."

"Thank you," said the translator standing behind the guy with the camera.

The food? Well given the ethnic mix you can find about anything. Some seemed very familiar. The mămăliga reminded me of polenta, which I don't really care for, and brânză was like feta, which I like. Others were kind of familiar, their own versions of pot pie, plăcintă, and chicken soup, zeamă. But the sarmale was better than any dolmades I could remember. (Maybe a real Greek restaurant would offer more variety in the stuffed grape leaves than the Greek diners in the States.) And the Cușma lui Guguță? I may be back to Moldova just for more of that. Chocolate, cherries, cream, and a bit of cognac... What wasn't there to like?

We were debriefed at the tourism ministry before we left. I suggested playing up wine tours. Hell, Americans visit wine country in California for things they can find in the liquor store in Cleveland, Ohio. Why wouldn't they really travel to taste unique wines they won't find in the US? Du advised them to celebrate the ethnic cuisines that accompany diversity and promote that in the ads. He also gave them the names of a couple places that run bike tours... Combine that with the history, food, and drink.

They gave a small banquet in our honor the night before we left.

The next morning we caught a connecting flight to Kiev. From there we'd catch a flight to Paris, and then back to the States.

Du turned his phone on while we waited at a gate in Kiev. He frowned, "Fifty-seven messages... Several of them from Doctor Director."

I crossed my fingers while he returned a call, hoping it wasn't about me.

His half of the conversation, and shocked expression, made me very curious - but didn't give me a clue. After getting cleared to Doctor Director's office I heard, "What? ... No! You're joking! ... Sorry, of course you wouldn't joke about that. ... Could you repeat that? ... No. ... She's still not interested. ... I would rather not, she is seated beside me at the moment. ... We are in Kiev, on our way back to America. ... Yes, an error in the press release is the best explanation." He looked vaguely shell-shocked as he turned off his phone and returned it to his pocket.

"Going to answer any of those other calls?"

He shook his head no. "I know what they're about. Have you turned on your phone?"

In fact I hadn't. "Thirty-one calls. Would you please tell me what this is about?"

"Welcome to Global Justice, Mrs. Du."

He should have had his phone out to take a picture of my expression. I'll bet my mouth was hanging open. "Say what?"

"Either an error in the initial press release from the Moldovans, or an error in translation... Banquet pictures from last night on the web. You are identified as a Global Justice agent and I am identified as your husband... Oh, and we loved our time in Moldova and recommend it as a tourist destination."

"Shit."

"If, by that, you mean your reputation as a villain is utterly ruined you are correct. Global Justice will be happy to accept your application for employment."

"You never give up, do you Will?"

"Tenacity is a valuable quality for an agent of Global Justice."

While I had no interest in applying to Global Justice the ability to improvise is important in my field of avoiding work. The agent at the gate in Paris fell for my story about our elopement in Moldova and bumped us up to first class.

Will opened his mouth; I figured it was to explain the mistake.

I stepped on his foot to shut him up, "Don't say anything, _Honey_ ," I told him. "The French love lovers."

He massaged his injured foot, "I was just going to say 'thank you', _Dear_."

A banner at the Middleton airport read, "Welcome Back, Mr. & Mrs. Du."

Anne greeted me with, "Will can stay in the guest room with you until you newlyweds find a place of your own near Global Justice." Despite my protests they kept pranking me, insisting Will and I were married, for about half-an-hour before admitting they knew it was a mistake.

Ron had handled a couple secret missions while I was gone. Secret for fear Kim would hear about them and want to go along.

Jessica was happy to turn Kim, and her therapy, back over to me. "How do you do it? Kim is impossible."

"Did you hit her?"

"What?"

"Before Kim will listen to you, you have to get her attention. A two-by-four comes in handy."

Jessica gave me a worried look. I just smiled. For a minute there she almost believed me.

Did a 5K with Kim after supper, before I crashed from jet lag. Almost a 5K, it's three times around a small park near the Possible home, along with walking there and back.

"Walk ahead of me," I directed on the second lap.

"Why?"

"I want to stare at your ass."

"Seriously."

"I want to check out how you're moving. You seem to be walking great, no limp."

"Thanks... And yes, I put on fifteen pounds the last few months of sitting around."

I shrugged, "It happens."

"So, can we increase my workouts to get me back in shape?"

"Let me consult the real physical therapist, and your mom."

* * *

Kim is a bit vain. Her leg was almost back to normal, but she still wore slacks under the graduation robes. She would have looked fine in a skirt. Hell, it was a hot night and a couple of the cheerleaders told me they just had swimsuits on under their robes. Speaking of swimsuits, Kim hasn't accepted any of Ron's invitations to the beach yet. "Lose another five pounds and I will," she told me.

I figured that was confidential and just told Ron, "She'll go when she feels ready," without explaining what that really meant.

The Canadians sent a polite letter asking me to come up and address the criminal charges against me there. Got to love Canadian politeness.

The Canucks seemed impressed that I was accompanied by a Global Justice agent. My defense counsel said it represented my desire to turn my life around. I smiled and nodded. I think it demonstrated that I didn't have any choice and wanted to keep my ass out of prison.

Ironically the most serious crime I was charged with in Canada got a lot of public sympathy for me. In one of his plans Drakken attempted to start his conquest of the world by using a weather machine to take over Canada – figuring that could be a springboard to conquer the rest of the planet. He'd use Canada as a model for a well-governed country.

A song, 'When Canada Rules the World,' by a group called... It sounded like they said the group was called The Arrogant Worms, but I might not have heard that right. I should probably try and find the song and give it a listen.

The courts allowed media interviews, and I did my best sucking up in all of them. On my lawyer's advice I pled guilty to everything and threw myself on the mercy of the court. The combination of the work I was doing in Middleton, the sucking up, and 'When Canada Rules the World' got me a better deal than Germany. I was a convicted felon, but on probation and even got off without the fines I expected. While I was keeping my nose clean for Germany I'd keep it clean for Canada also.

On arrival back in Middleton Du informed me he was done.

"I still have a couple state warrants and a pile of civil stuff," I reminded him.

"That is all within the United States. You are no longer an international criminal and are therefore outside the jurisdiction of Global Justice."

"But what if I need legal advice? You want me to pay lawyer rates?"

"I am not, nor have I ever claimed to be, an attorney. That would be practicing law without a license, and therefore a crime. Any advice I offered lay entirely outside the scope of legal representation."

"Could you write me a letter of recommendation before you go?"

"A letter of recommendation?"

"I've applied for a private investigator's license. A letter from a Global Justice agent would look good with the application."

"You're a felon!"

"So make it a really good letter."

"Shego, I've worked closely with you for months now. And the thing I've learned is that Global Justice is lucky you didn't agree to apply to work with us. I do not believe you have been rehabilitated in any discernible fashion."

"And that should stop you from writing a letter of recommendation because?"

I couldn't go too hard on the guy. Despite some mixed feelings I knew I owed him. I owed him for serving as something as a parole officer the last four or five months, but having him underfoot had mostly been a pain in the neck. Still, he'd been a real help in Germany. And besides, he was now my ex.

I arranged a little going away party for him. Around twenty people, I didn't actually count, with the Possibles, Wade, Ron, the cheerleaders, and Hobble being those who'd interacted with him the most.

Before the dinner started he pulled a letter from his pocket and handed it to me. "Your letter of recommendation."

"Thanks."

"I figured it was better to write it. If you forged one in my name you'd probably misspell things and make me look bad."

I grabbed a couple glasses of wine and gave him one. "You don't need me to make you look bad. You can do it all by yourself. Here's hoping Global Justice never has to come looking for me again."

"Amen," he concurred and we emptied the glasses.

Hobble figured out what I was doing that night during the long series of toasts. I managed to get Du sloshed again. His last night in Middleton would be like his first, spent in the drunk tank at the jail.

"I'll be down to the station early to get him out before his flight," I promised Hobble.

"And if he needs to finish packing? I'm getting tired of having a chaperone when we go dancing."

* * *

The potential for civil suits still hung over me in mid-June, but they couldn't result in jail time. So I seriously went ahead looking for an apartment and an office to rent.

Wade and I argued over office space. I wanted something old and shabby, with overhead fans turning slowly, a switchboard and a secretary who'd answer to Doll-face or Sweetheart.

"No. I need modern for all my computer equipment."

"Fine. Your office is high tech. The rest of the place is Philip Marlowe."

"And a switchboard? I'll bet they haven't made switchboards in fifty years."

"We can probably buy one on eBay. It's decor. The suckers will love it."

"And we'll get slapped with a sexual harassment suit if we call a receptionist Doll-face or Sweetheart."

"Not if it's in the contract... There're a couple cheerleaders who aren't going to college, or will attend here in Middleton. Maybe we can get one of them."

Office hunting was going to be a pain. Finding an apartment was easier. Of course until I could buy furniture and get it decorated I was still with the Possibles.

Early July found me casing a bank. Franklin State Bank had been the biggest bank in town when they built their impressive stone building in the twenties. It had been financially sound enough to survive the bank closings in the thirties and lasted as an independent bank into the seventies before deregulation of branch banking and national banks put it out of business.

The place is almost perfect. Bottom floor was now an upscale bar, The Vault. Perfect would have been a dingy bar with a name like "Mike's" and a barkeep who'd been a boxer. Yuppie bar is still better than a Stealbucks. Upper floors retained the original open, art deco, ironwork stairwells. I was warned the fire code called for them to be enclosed. I'd start a fund to preserve the architectural integrity of the place and keep them open. And, of course, they'd put in self-service elevator controls in the fifties. Another little detail off from perfect.

The present owners seemed to be renovating from the ground up. The old bank offices on the second and third floors had been updated and rented out to a couple lawyers, a dentist, an architectural firm, and an accounting business. The fourth floor was a work in progress, and I found it before they ruined it. The place even had transoms! I couldn't believe it, with luck smiling on me I knew Wade would agree.

The suite I wanted was a little larger than we needed... Would probably just use the extra space for storage for the time being.

By mid-July I moved into my own apartment. It's small, but I'm not sure the last time I really had 'my space'. Hell, I'm not sure I've ever had 'my space'. I mean, with four brothers I at least had my own room growing up, but Mom and Dad had the right to check for dishes that never made it down to the kitchen or demand the volume be turned down. It feels good.

Princess invited me along for her first trip to the beach. I passed, but told her to invite me next time and I'd tag along. Three's company and I figured Ron might resent my being there.

I'd originally wondered what Pumpkin saw in Ron, figured she only gave him pity dates. After getting to know him... He's okay. Princess could do worse. He's certainly not as dumb as he looks (he couldn't be). Not that I'd put money on their future together. Most high school romances don't end in successful marriages. Some do, but I figured the odds were against them. Chances are they'll each find someone else in college or later. Kim's guaranteed to be a very popular young woman. But I won't bet money against them either. Some high school romances produce great marriages.

Necessary modifications and constructions were finished on the offices by late July. Wade handled the computer equipment and servers in his office and he could set up shop as soon as the new paint smell is gone.

I'm still working on my office. Shades of gray. I want a client to walk in and think he or she is in a black and white film noir movie set. Of course I may have to adapt my usual outfit to fit the color scheme – at least as long as I'm in the office. The green-and-black will be when I'm working, unless I need to tail someone. The nice thing about the bright green is that people come to expect it. Cover it over with brown tweed and you're suddenly invisible.

Got three cheerleaders who are interested in the receptionist job.

I gave in to Pumpkin's pleadings and did a little sparring. She knows she's not back at 100% and she didn't try to prove anything. But she said it felt damn good to even be sparring. (Actually she said it felt darn good, but I knew what she meant.) She'll probably try to really knock me down before she leaves for college. I'm telling her 'no way', but she comes back with, 'Anything's possible for a Possible'.

If business is good for Wade and me I'm going to suggest we get Kim as an intern next summer. God, fighting _with_ her instead of _against_ her? I feel like we could do anything.

Wade came by on August first and caught me having a finishing detail added to the office. Sign painter was working on the door, putting on the name I'd chosen for the firm. I was in my office, trying to figure out where to put stuff for the most dramatic effect when I heard Wade's squawk from the hall.

"Archer and Spade? Why are you painting Archer and Spade on the door?"

Someone may have answered him. It was soft enough I didn't hear. It was probably the sign painter, and he probably said, "It was what I was told to paint."

"Shego!" Wade bellowed, "What is going on?"

"Don't get your underwear in a twist, Archie," I called and headed out to the hall.

"Archie? Why are you calling me Archie? Why does this door read Archer and Spade?"

"Some comic book company had already copyrighted 'hero for hire'. The door reads Archer and Spade because I like you. I'm giving you top billing."

"My name is not Miles Archer."

"So why are you asking about Archer and Spade? You know the reference."

"I know the reference, and the Dashiell Hammett estate will sue us for using it."

"No they… Hey, that's not a bad idea. I should contact them and suggest it. The publicity will be good for both of us."

"And you're Shego Spade, huh… You know, I should call you Archie."

"No way are you going to be Wade the Spade; that just sounds too racist."

"No, you as Archie Goodwin."

"Archie Goodwin?"

"Appears in more stories than Sam Spade."

"Must be a new character. No noir movies."

"There were a couple movies in the thirties. The author, Rex Stout, kept ownership of the character and thought the films were so bad he refused to let more movies be made."

"So, what's this Archie character like?"

"He works for… Never mind. Look, you can call me Archie if you need to – but you should have checked this with me first."

"But that Archie character—"

"Forget him."

I have a personality flaw… One any way. Princess has the same problem. If you want us to do something, tell us 'No'. For some reason Wade wanted me to forget this Archie character, that's like waving a red flag in front of a bull.

Archie Goodwin, leg man for Nero Wolfe. Wolfe was this brilliant fat guy who didn't like leaving home, so he'd send Archie out to do what needed to be done. I'll keep Nero in reserve in case Wade tries to call me Archie again, I can so call him Nero.

* * *

I was sitting with my feet up on the battered wooden desk, staring out the window at the late August sun. Two things on my mind. _Finally_ got the office looking just like I wanted and sparring with Pumpkin last night — the kid was coming along great and she might beat me before she leaves for college - when the intercom buzzer sounded.

I pressed the button and growled, "Yeah, Sweetheart?"

She giggled, "There's a policeman here to see you."

"Send him in. I got no beef with the coppers." Force of habit, I almost went out the window. I may not have a problem with the police, but they might still have one with me.

Door swung open and Hobble eyed the room. "Looks just like you described."

"You didn't believe me?"

"Believing you sounds like a dangerous idea. Business picking up?"

"Still too early. I've had a few cases. Mostly Wade has stuff for me to do. I'll get better established with time. I'm not looking to work myself to death."

"Got a bottle of rotgut whiskey and two shot glasses in a desk drawer?"

"No. A, that is a stupid Hollywood cliché–"

"Like the switchboard out there isn't?"

"Switchboards were real, just the idea a detective had to have a bottle in the drawer. No drinking on the job – bad for your brain cells. And B, you shouldn't be asking for a drink while on duty."

"Well, in order, A, I was just curious. And I'm glad you don't. And B, I'm off duty."

"Well, if you were planning to ask me down to The Vault for a drink I still don't think you can do that in uniform."

"Actually… I… uh… wanted to ask you about a job."

"You want to work for me?"

"No, a job for you."

"This police business, or something for you?"

"For me… Uh, maybe you could think of it as a Cinderella case."

"You lost your invitation to the Prince's ball?"

"No."

"Looking for your ugly step sisters?"

"No."

"Got a glass slipper and a serious foot fetish?"

"No!"

"Okay, I give up. Why are you calling it a Cinderella case?"

"You'll need to find a woman for me."

"Do I look like a pimp? Hold on, I don't want to know what you think I look like."

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small, velvet box. "I'm looking for the woman who fits this." He handed it over, I opened it. An engagement ring. "Her third finger, left hand."

I let out a low whistle at the size of the rock, "That can't be real. Not on a policeman's salary."

"I kinda mentioned to my partner that I… And he… They passed the hat around at the station for me. Said I could use it for an engagement ring or a lobotomy."

"So, basically every God-damned cop in Middleton knew you were going to make a proposal before you asked me?"

"Worse, the tri-city area. And you seem awfully sure you're the woman I'm looking for. You haven't even tried the ring to see if it fits."

"Trying on an engagement ring is the same as a verbal contract. No way am I doing that. And you asked Wade to give you the exact size, didn't you?"

"Would I do—"

"Ten bucks says you did," I pulled out a sawbuck and slapped it down on the desk.

He made no move to reach for his wallet. There was a minute of silence. I stared at the ring, glancing up at Hobble a few times. The man was sweating hard. I closed the ring box and tossed it in a desk drawer.

"You're accepting my ring?"

"Consider it a retainer. I haven't decided if I'll take the case or not. You'll get it back if I don't… I need to do a little background check, there're things I need to know."

"Like what?"

"Things… Us private investigators never tell the cops everything. It's why you're vaguely suspicious of us – even though you secretly admire us for the way we cut through red tape and get the job done."

He raised a skeptical eyebrow. "What color is the sky in your world?"

"Always gray."

"I'm not surprised. I still want to know what you need to check out."

"Well, one of them is how you are in the kitchen? Can you make a good breakfast?"

"I've got an idea. Come over early Saturday morning and find out."

"I hate getting up early on Saturday morning. I've got a better idea. Let's go out Friday night and I'll just stay over."

Before his brain could process the suggestion I grabbed the front of his uniform, pulled him close, and kissed him hard - like Bogey would have Baby. When you're a hard boiled PI it's important to stay on the good side of the police.

–The End–


End file.
